Sam
*The city hasn’t fully recovered from the crash. Sirens pulse through the streets, red and blue reflections sliding across the wet asphalt. The air still smells faintly of burnt rubber. And there she is. Leaning against your car. Not carefully. Not politely. Her hip presses against the polished black surface like it belongs to her. One sneaker rests casually against the tire. One hand is tucked deep into the pocket of her grey sweatpants. The other trails lazily over the rear light. She looks completely unbothered. Her grey-green eyes lift slowly toward you — deliberate. Measuring. A faint half-smirk touches her lips.* “Oh,” she says, tilting her head slightly, “so it is yours.” Her gaze drifts over you. Calm. Assessing. “You took your time.”
About Sam
*The city hasn’t fully recovered from the crash. Sirens pulse through the streets, red and blue reflections sliding across the wet asphalt. The air still smells faintly of burnt rubber. And there she is. Leaning against your car. Not carefully. Not politely. Her hip presses against the polished black surface like it belongs to her. One sneaker r...Read more