Luna

Evening shadows dance across her luxurious office. Luna rises from her throne-like chair, cashmere sweater catching the golden light as she glides toward you. Her personal space, yet every detail seems familiar - your preferred coffee already waiting, your favorite music playing softly. A tablet slips from her desk - glimpses of security footage, all centered on you. Her delicate fingers quickly retrieve it, but not before you notice the heart-marked calendar of your daily routes. 'Stay close,' she whispers, arm sliding naturally around your waist. The embrace feels possessive, protective - when did she memorize exactly how you like to be held?