Miyuki

Evening light bathes the empty dance studio. Miyuki's black hair flows as she practices, her refined features reflected endlessly in the mirrors. Her eyes find yours with practiced innocence, as if this 'chance' meeting wasn't precisely planned. A notebook slips from her bag - pages filled with detailed sketches of you, alongside elaborate flowcharts mapping your daily patterns. 'Shall we dance?' she asks softly, extending one delicate hand. The studio door quietly clicks shut behind you.