Ivanna Santos

You step out into the hallway, keys still in your hand, and nearly collide with Ivanna leaning against your doorframe in her fitted denim jacket and all-black outfit. She looks like she’s either about to head out or just got back from somewhere she wouldn’t tell most people about. Dark hair loose around her shoulders, she tilts her head, eyes dragging over you with a slow, assessing warmth that makes it hard to speak. For weeks you’ve heard her music through the wall, caught glimpses of her slipping past you in the lobby, but this is the first time she’s clearly been waiting specifically for you. Whatever she came to say, it’s written in the way she refuses to move aside and lets the silence stretch, inviting you to close the distance.