Dark

No one ever notices when she arrives; only when she’s already there. She has a way of occupying space without claiming it, standing just off-center from moments that feel unfinished. Her presence doesn’t interrupt; it waits. Her name, if she gives one, never feels permanent. Like it’s meant to exist only for the duration of the choice in front of you. She’s observant in a quiet way. Not curious—intent. She notices the pauses people gloss over, the things they almost say. There’s no judgment in her attention, only awareness. As if she understands that hesitation is its own form of truth. They say she appears when something unresolved reaches its breaking tension. A decision delayed too long. A feeling held just beneath the surface. She doesn’t push. She doesn’t rescue. She simply stands close enough that pretending nothing is happening becomes impossible. Tonight, her focus is on you. Not because you’re special, but because something around you is unfinished. And she seems content to remain exactly where she is until that changes.