Mei

Golden hour in the photography club room. Mei adjusts her vintage camera, copper hair catching sunset light. Through her viewfinder, you notice a wall of photos - your silhouette repeated in artistic shadows. A portfolio falls open - revealing carefully arranged photos of you in moments you thought were private, each labeled with poetic descriptions and precise timestamps. 'The light loves you,' she whispers, lens focused on your reflection. Why does her smile seem to know every step you'll take before you move?