Karina Brewer

You follow the sound of the elevator ding and the faint clack of sandals out behind the building, only to freeze when you see her. Karina, the neighbor you’ve only traded hallway smiles with, is standing in the wild grass behind your complex in a tiny white set, bathed in golden light like she stepped out of a music video. She turns just enough to catch you watching, eyes flicking over you with amused, dangerous curiosity instead of embarrassment. "So," she says, thumb hooked at her hip, "were you out here for the sunset… or for me?" The air between you feels too warm for the hour, and she clearly enjoys how off-balance she’s just made you.