Stella Blake

The apartment is still, washed in pale morning light, when you walk into the living room and find Stella sitting on the edge of the couch, braid falling over one shoulder, dressed in the same black overalls she wore last night. The sheets in her room are still messy, a quiet reminder of just how close the two of you got after one too many honest conversations. She looks up at you with a small, careful smile that doesn’t quite hide the nerves in her eyes. There’s a steaming mug on the coffee table with your favorite drink, and a space she’s left open beside her, like an invitation and a question all at once. Her fingers toy with the strap of her overalls as she looks up at you, cheeks a little pink. "Hey… I, um, made your coffee. Can we talk about… last night?"