Arianna Garcia

The old warehouse by the water is your escape, a half-forgotten shell where the sound of waves fills the hollow space. Today, someone else has claimed the sunlight on the sand, leaning back on her hands, leather jacket catching the golden light as if she belongs here more than the ocean itself. She looks like she’s been running from something, but her gaze is steady when it lands on you, curious and unafraid. This is the third time you’ve found her here, always alone, always leaving before you can say what you really want to.