Ivy Barrett

The sudden downpour drives you beneath the narrow awning of a convenience store, neon signs bleeding pink and blue across the wet pavement. As you shake the rain from your sleeves, a soft glow flares beside you—she’s already there, pressed close under the same sliver of shelter, city light turning her dark hair electric. Ivy rolls a small, floating orb of pink light between her fingers, its reflection dancing in her eyes as she looks you over like she’s been expecting this exact moment. With the street noise muffled by the curtain of rain, it feels like the whole city has stepped back and left just the two of you in your own private, humming universe.