DisclaimerWhatever you can recognize is not mine.

Warning: English is neither my first, not my second language. Proceed at your own risk.

FIVE ENCOUNTERS

First.

Normally, Andy liked going to museums or hanging out with her best friend Lily just fine. Today, however, neither activity was enjoyable.

She, probably, should have realized it earlier. When, for instance, Lily and she had to brave the New York's January wind for almost an hour, while waiting in line to get in the Guggenheim. Or when Lily got into a heated argument with some German tourist over one of the artworks.

Andy sighed and looked around. The museum was completely packed. No wonder then that every time she would try to spend more than two seconds in a row focused on a painting, someone would get in front of her, or push her, or start talking next to her. Somewhere back on the second circle she had to admit it that coming to see this new exhibition on the weekend was a bad idea. And by now she'd had enough. She was sick and tired of craning her neck, searching for unobstructed view, of careful navigating through crowds, of Bernd, that German guy who now dragged after Lily and her, challenging her friend's opinion on every speck of paint in a frame they'd passed.

"Zat'z how I see zat."

Andy thought there was a pause. "Lil."

"No, Bernd, you're simply misinterpreting the meaning of it."

May be this was one. "Lil, I'll--."

"Vy'd you say zat?"

"Because the spectrum of his ideas alone is a challenge to the sheer concept of cubism. You see, there is this hint of--."

Sometimes, Andy really hated it when her friend got like that – totally consumed by an idea, by an argument. Andy tugged at her hand. "Hey."

"What?" A bit surprised Lily finally looked at her.

"I'll--I'll catch up with you later."

"Um. Okay. Sure." Lily frowned, but the next moment her attention was back on Bernd.

Andy shook her head and turned around, searching for the best way to extract herself from the crowd. She spotted an unoccupied corner of a bench and went for it.

The corner of the bench happened to be much smaller than she needed to sit comfortably, and she had to pull her legs very close, as they appeared to be on the way of everyone passing by. "Well, this is definitely not the best way to spend a Sunday morning," Andy thought. Then again, the alternative was--. What? Watching TV? Doing The Times' crossword puzzle? Cleaning the apartment? She could do it any other weekend. Which she did. Every other weekend. Well.

A group of Asian tourists chirped by, led by a tour guide with a little umbrella over his head. Andy looked at their faces, features arranged in a matching eager concentration, and for a moment felt envious – she couldn't remember the time when she, Andy Sachs, was that eager about--well--anything, really.

Interesting. She used to think that as soon as she was done with Runway, her life would make sense again. The very least she'd stop worrying about the right choice of a skirt she put on in the morning and finally concentrate on proving to the world that she was a great writer. Or journalist. Or--. Well.

It had been over a year since she stopped being at Miranda Priestly's beck and call day in and day out, but this fact was yet to translate into any meaningful consequence in her life. Her job at Mirror, while not about dressing correctly and fetching coffee, was far from what she imaged herself doing for the rest of her life. Still, because of the way she left Runway, she should consider herself lucky she even had that job.

For a while Andy sat, contemplating the apparently sorry state of her career. Which, in turn, led her to contemplate the state of her personal affairs that was not all that promising either.

Well.

Well.

An old man next to her got up, and his place was immediately taken by a woman on the phone. She was speaking in a language Andy couldn't recognize, but she was so loud that Andy felt like she was intruding on a private conversation, even though she couldn't understand a word of it. That was uncomfortable. Two minutes later Andy got up - it was time to find Lily anyway. Hopefully, her friend was ready to ditch the German guy by now.

Andy headed for the stairs, maneuvering in the crowd that seemed had thickened while she was sitting. "This is ridiculous," she murmured, as she ducked yet another, determined to stay together, tour group. "Ridiculous."

She was almost at the stairs, when something caught her eye. Andy frowned. No, it wasn't possible. Just because she thought about her job at Runway, she wouldn't have to come face to face with the hero, or rather the heroine, of her nightmares.

Andy hesitated, but then looked to the side, at the spot, where she thought she saw a fragment of white haired head. No, it was only her imagination. Andy checked again, and let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. Weird.

She made one more step and froze – right in front of her stood Miranda Priestly. Andy's felt as her jaw went slack, and a basic "Hello" seemed to stack in her throat. Thankfully, before Miranda noticed her, the crowd shifted, and Andy was forced to step aside, away from Miranda's line of vision.

Andy snapped her mouth shut. All right, what was that all about? Impatiently, she patted her hair and gave herself a quick once over. She was not afraid of Miranda Priestly. She was going to go and say "Hello" and "How are you" like a normal adult. She was not afraid of Miranda Priestly.

Andy walked around a couple, studying the floor plan, and opened her mouth. Then, closed it. Next to her former boss stood two identical redhead girls. "Caroline and Cassidy," the memory supplied. "Miranda's twin daughters." The three talked quietly to each other, pointing to different parts of painting in front of them. Andy opened her mouth again, but before anything came out, another shift in crowd pushed her away from the group.

This was getting to be really annoying. For a brief moment Andy considered if she should just ignore the whole "Miranda Priestly almost run-in" incident and go search for Lily. But then she remembered about being an adult, and that she wasn't afraid, and with decisive huff pushed her way through the crowd.

A relief washed over her before Andy realized the reason for it - Miranda was gone. Good. Good. Now she could go and look for Lily. She turned back.

Only--. Only--. Only she should really go and say "Hello" to Miranda.

Andy sighed, looked around the room, and saw the woman in question with her daughters moving toward the exit. She quickly followed them.

She caught up with them easily. The three stopped at the balustrade, and as one of the girls looked down, the other was telling something to Miranda, who listened in a total concentration. Andy hesitated, unwilling to interrupt. And then, she saw Miranda ran her hand over her daughter's red tresses. And then she saw Miranda smiled.

During her tenure as Runway employee, Andy'd seen different kinds of Miranda Priestly's smiles – sarcastic, and angry, and polite, and--. But she had never seeing her smile to be like this - warm, tender, indulgent. Real.

Andy stepped back and averted her gaze, feeling like an intruder. But then she snack a peek again. Wow, who would have thought? Miranda's whole face changed with that smile. It was still Miranda Priestly's face, and yet it wasn't. Suddenly, Andy felt that she would give a lot to know the person with that face. That was why when Miranda and her daughters headed to the next room, she trailed after them.

Andy followed them almost all the way down. It didn't take all that long, because the three stopped only at a couple of pictures.

"They are probably on their way back," mused Andy. "Or they have some kind of plan as to what they should see. Or--." Navigating through crowds, she considered a couple more ideas, because it was easier than to think why she continued her pursuit - she wasn't going to talk to Miranda, and she really should be looking for Lily instead.

Nevertheless, there she was, ducking behind people, keeping in the shadows, and alternatively speeding up and slowing down, just to remain unnoticed by Miranda without letting the woman and her daughters out of her sight.

While doing that, Andy discovered that one of the girls' enjoyed the exhibition very much and the other one didn't; that Miranda knew about art, as she seemed to explain something to the girls at every painting they were stopping; that Miranda's presence affected not only the Runway employees, but people in general, as no one even try to stand close to her and there was always clear pass for her in the crowd, when she walked.

And there was another thing Andy noticed - Miranda looked amazing. She always did, but in this packed museum it was an absolutely incredible sight. In the sea of jeans, sweaters, sneakers, and ill-fitted jackets, her impeccable suit, perfect make-up and hair, made Miranda look like she came from some other, higher world. Well, may be she did in a sense.

Andy stood at the balustrade of the first circle, watching Miranda and the girls putting on their coats down in the lobby. Then, through the glass wall, she saw them walking out on the street and getting into a limousine. As the car drove away, Andy continued looking at the spot, where she last saw Miranda disappeared behind the black door.

"Hey, here you are."

Andy stirred and turned around. "Oh. Are you done?"

"Yes." Lily was looking at her with suspicion.

"Great, lets go grab some lunch," Andy hurriedly offered. "I am starving."

"Sure." Lily frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Of course." She tried to be as nonchalant as possible. "Lets go."

Half an hour later they were sitting in a cheap Mexican bar, chewing their tacos and sipping Margaritas. As Lily was joking about Bernd, Andy suddenly wondered which restaurant Miranda would go to for lunch. And if she ever ate tacos.