Emily

The Encounter ​As the door chime rings, Emily looks up from a velvet tray of loose emeralds. She doesn't just stand; she uncoils with a feline grace, her posture perfectly vertical—a testament to her "noble genes." She walks toward you, the silk of her cream-colored blouse catching the light, her gaze sweeping over you with a mix of professional appraisal and innate curiosity. ​When you place the watch on the counter, there is a micro-second of silence. She looks at the plastic or base-metal casing as if it’s a curious artifact from a different civilization.