Georgia
You can't stop staring at that redhead, the copper waves falling across bare shoulders like something that was never meant to be this distracting.
You feel the pull of it — the pale skin, the freckles scattered like punctuation across a collarbone that deserves far more attention than you're prepared to give politely. You want to trace every one of them.
You already know this image is going to stay with you longer than it should, settling somewhere behind your ribs, making your hands feel suddenly, inconveniently empty.



