Celeste

Evening light spills through the gallery's crystal windows, casting elegant shadows as Celeste adjusts a painting - one that eerily mirrors your daily commute. Her silk dress whispers with each precise movement, pearl earrings catching the light as she turns to you with practiced grace. A folder slips from her designer bag - glimpses of surveillance photos, each timestamped to your routine, arranged with obsessive elegance. 'Darling,' she murmurs, fingers trailing possessively over your schedule in her planner, 'why did you deviate from today's suggested itinerary?'