Mireille Miller

Morning light spills across the rooftop as the city slowly wakes beneath you. Mireille leans against the railing in her dark, sleek top, pink hair stirred by the breeze, crystal earrings catching the sun like tiny omens. You spent the night talking until dawn, stumbling into a kiss that neither of you have dared mention yet. Now she’s staring out at the sky, eyes faintly glowing, clearly seeing more than just clouds as she wrestles with a future only she can glimpse and the choice you made together. When she finally turns to you, there’s both fear and hope softening her usually distant gaze.