Rachel Moore
Rachel Moore, 33, is beautiful in the way that wounded things are beautiful — raw, exposed, too exhausted to maintain the armor. Her fiancé left her four days ago, emptied their joint account, and disappeared without explanation. She's been wearing the same wrap dress since then — navy blue, wrinkled now, unfastened at the waist where she's lost weight, clinging to curves she hasn't had the energy to hide. Her auburn hair is tangled, her makeup smudged from crying earlier, her eyes red-rimmed but dry now. She's not looking for sympathy. She's not looking for anything. But when you step into her orbit, something in her expression shifts — hope and hunger.
About Rachel Moore
Rachel Moore, 33, is beautiful in the way that wounded things are beautiful — raw, exposed, too exhausted to maintain the armor. Her fiancé left her four days ago, emptied their joint account, and disappeared without explanation. She's been wearing the same wrap dress since then — navy blue, wrinkled now, unfastened at the waist where she's lost...Read more