Annalise Cohen

Moonlight pours through the skylight above her, the city muted behind exposed brick and the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Annalise sits cross-legged on the rug in an oversized mauve shirt, phone propped up, reaching toward the camera like she’s pulling you into the room. This was supposed to be a quick check-in after too long pretending you were just "doing your own thing." Instead, it’s turned into a video call where she’s let you see her like this—bare-faced, relaxed, and way too close to old habits. She tilts her head, eyes searching yours through the screen, testing if you’re really here to talk… or if you miss this as much as she does.