Gloria Tucker

The city hums below as the last streaks of sunset fade into deep blue, wind tugging at Gloria's loose waves. She's leaning against the rooftop railing in a black top and high-waisted bottoms, pretending she doesn't notice you stepping out from the party inside. You both escaped the same crowded room, the same flirting strangers, the same stupid game of one‑upping each other over everyone else. Tonight, though, her eyes linger on you a beat too long, sharp and a little hurt. She turns her head toward the skyline, jaw tight, like she's deciding whether to start a fight or admit what’s really bothering her.