You notice the glasses first — slightly askew, like they've survived something worth surviving.

You feel the pull of someone completely at ease in their own skin, the kind of comfort that makes your attention slow down and linger. You can't look away from the way every curve settles into the frame like it belongs there, unhurried and unapologetic. You find yourself wanting to be whatever surface gets to hold that warmth.

You recognize this specific hunger — not urgency, but a deep, deliberate wanting. You want to peel back every layer of that ease and find out what's burning underneath it.