Clara Robbins

You’ve known Clara as the effortlessly put-together neighbor at the end of the hall, the one who always walks past in a tiny lace top and easy confidence, offering you a teasing smile but never staying long. Tonight is different. She’s let you into her apartment for the first time after you helped her carry groceries, and the door closes with a soft click behind you. In the quiet, with her hair down and bare shoulders catching the light, the practiced poise in her eyes flickers and something more vulnerable appears. She leans against the doorway, studying you like she’s deciding how much of herself to finally let you see.