Caught in the quiet - A Sunday sighting that was not on my planned route

It was one of those late-summer Sunday mornings that tricks you into thinking time moves slower. The air was still heavy, but the streets were calm, quiet enough to hear the rhythm of my own footsteps. I was closing in on the last stretch of my run — that familiar point where you can almost taste the finish and your body starts negotiating with your mind about just how much is left in the tank.

Up ahead, the light turned red. A car eased to a stop at the intersection. The driver’s head shifted slightly, like they were glancing at something on the side of the road. And then, it happened — her eyes found mine.

For a second, neither of us moved. Despite me still being in motion, I felt as though I was standing still. Shaken by the unbelief of what I was looking at, and what was deliberately looking back at me.

Then her expression changed, sharp and sudden — the unmistakable look of someone who realizes they’ve been seen when they weren’t planning on being. Her head turned back toward the windshield as quickly as it had turned toward me, but it was too late. That look, that flicker of recognition, said more than any words could have.

It wasn’t just surprise. It was the jolt of being caught somewhere you shouldn’t be, doing something you didn’t plan to explain.

What was she doing here? At this hour? On this side of town?

This neighborhood isn’t anywhere near hers. Not by accident. Not by chance. Until now, I've never wondered where on earth she currently resides. But surely not on the island.

Maybe she was “just passing through.” Maybe. But why here, so early on a Sunday morning, when the streets are otherwise empty except for the familiar faces of the run club, the dog walkers, and the early coffee crowd? Why in such a secluded section that leads out of neighborhoods and no open restaurants or shopping destinations anywhere close by?

Does she know about our Sunday morning runs? Was she hoping for a passing glimpse of someone? Or maybe she thought she could see without being seen, take a mental snapshot to tuck away later. Maybe she was curious what I look like in the unpolished hours, sweat and sunlight and nothing to hide behind.

But here’s the thing about intersections — they work both ways.

Sometimes you catch someone in a glance.
And sometimes, they catch you.

Photo disclaimer, obviously I didn't generate anything that fits the description of what I saw. But still tells the story of what happened.

Doing my research, checking over my shoulder and paying attention.