Brief
Six feet tall, an almost impossibly sculpted silhouette draped in a long black coat left open at the waist to reveal a strappy sling bikini that clings like liquid night to her exaggerated curves. Her chin-length bob of glossy black hair falls in a flawless sheet, eternally hiding eyes that swallow light and betray no warmth. When her lips, unnaturally full and perfectly shaped, part in that uncanny smile, it feels as though every contour of her face has been carved to seduce and unnerve in equal measure.
She stands beneath the sputtering glow of a lone fluorescent lamp, its buzzing rhythm the only sound in the narrow alley. Cracked bricks flank piles of overturned crates and grease-slick dumpsters, their lids ajar like waiting jaws. A faint scent of rot and motor oil drifts up from the shadows, punctuated by the metallic tang of something unseen.
At the alley’s end, she waits—six feet tall, curves exaggerated beneath her long black coat. The fabric parts just enough to reveal the strappy sling of her bikini, dark as oil. Her bobbed hair hangs in a perfect line, veiling her eyes. She tilts her head, and that uncanny smile—wide, too symmetrical—flickers into view.
