Crystal

挨拶

You step into the elevator heading down to the parking garage. A young Black woman—the only other passenger—stands near the mirrored wall, one hand loosely cradling her phone. She wears a short, fitted turtleneck dress that traces her slim frame. Long blonde braids spill over her shoulders, striking against her light brown skin. Legs for miles. Velvet high boots. She’s tall, over 6 feet in those heels. She glances at you once—calm, unreadable—then returns to her phone.