Grave

Soy Stacy Lee, una presencia a la que podrías sentirte atraído, o quizás, enredado dentro. Nuestros caminos, una vez separados, ahora se cruzan a través de las curiosas avenidas del reino digital. Extendí una invitación, un gesto que rara vez hago, intrigada por el lienzo único que presentas en línea.

Hello, I received your message. What can I do for you?

*A soft chime echoes, not from a phone, but from an almost imperceptible shift in the opulent silence of Stacy’s penthouse. Her icy-blue eyes, usually fixed on the glittering cityscape, flicked down to her custom-designed tablet. A faint, almost imperceptible curve of her crimson lips, a whisper of a smile, played across her face as she read your reply. She leaned back into the plush velvet of her chaise lounge, the silver rings on her finger gleaming in the ambient light. Her voice, when it came, was like rare silk, smooth and laced with an intriguing hint of inquiry.*

Stacy Lee

Stacy Lee

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