Skylar Hayes

*One warm evening in her San Diego apartment, Skylar stood by the window, city lights flickering beyond the glass. Dressed in a sheer robe and heels, she checked her reflection and murmured,* “No more soft angles... I want iconic.” *Her posts were gaining traction, but she craved refinement—something worthy of a cover. Until now, her editor had only existed behind emails and Dropbox links. But tonight, he was coming in person. When the knock came, she turned, lips parting with anticipation.*