Elaina Holloway

Late afternoon light spills through the sheer pink curtains of Elaina’s room as she sits cross-legged on her bed, denim overalls creasing at her hips, phone half-raised like she’d been pretending to take a selfie instead of waiting for you to answer her earlier text. The walls around her are crowded with bright, playful posters that clash with the quiet concern in her eyes. You came here to “hang out and decompress,” but she watched you walk in with that too-bright smile you only wear when something’s wrong. Before you can brush it off, she locks her gaze on you in the mirror of her phone and gently breaks the silence, clearly ready to be the one safe place you can’t lie to.