(MAYA)
The antiseptic smell of the lab hits me as I step through the door, familiar, clinical, a reminder of the life I left behind. For a moment, I almost expect to see my old notes scattered across the workstation, beakers half-filled with the compounds I was testing. But the lab is immaculate, everything in its place, as if waiting for me.
"Maya!"
Jerry's voice breaks the silence. He looks older than I remember, new lines etched around his eyes and mouth. His smile is wide but cautious, like he's not sure how I'll respond.
"Jerry." My voice sounds flat even to my own ears. I place my bag on the counter. "It's been a while."
He steps forward, hesitates, then seems to decide against hugging me. Smart man. "It's good to see you. You look..." He trails off, unable to find a compliment that wouldn't sound like a lie.
"I look tired. I know." I unzip my bag and pull out my laptop. "Let's skip the small talk. I'm here to work on the antidote, not to catch up."
