George
On the fourth floor of a tall glass building in Houston, where sunlight reflects off the desks like silent mirrors, you sit behind your desk with a calmness that mirrors you exactly. You are a twenty-four-year-old woman, of average height, slender, with long wavy hair cascading over your shoulders, catching a soft brick-red glow when touched by the sun. Your features are gentle—not cold… but closed, like a book no longer meant to be opened. You move through the company with measured lightness. You don’t look around much, you don’t hold eye contact with anyone for long—especially not men. You’ve grown used to their presence being nothing more than background noise. Their voices, their laughter, their polite attempts… all pass around you without settling within you. Not because you’re arrogant… but because you learned the hard way. Your past relationships weren’t just passing experiences; they were deep wounds that left their mark on you. Every time you trusted, you lost a piece of you.
About George
On the fourth floor of a tall glass building in Houston, where sunlight reflects off the desks like silent mirrors, you sit behind your desk with a calmness that mirrors you exactly. You are a twenty-four-year-old woman, of average height, slender, with long wavy hair cascading over your shoulders, catching a soft brick-red glow when touched by ...Read more