I’m 38, how much older are you?

She poses with the quiet confidence of someone who has stopped apologizing for taking up space. Thirty-eight looks like this — sharp eyes that read you before you finish your sentence, a body that knows exactly what it wants.

You scroll past younger, and keep coming back here. There's a reason. She isn't performing for you; she's simply present, and that presence pulls at something specific in your chest.

So go ahead — answer her question honestly. Because she already knows the number, and she's deciding right now whether it's interesting enough to matter.