ten minutes left and the bathroom smells like warm fabric and steam — the kind of mess I secretly love. the sample piece draped over the shower rod, me flicking at one last crease like it’s a personal insult. caught my reflection looking way too polished for how wiped I feel—neat makeup, hair pinned back, soft lips—that suspiciously put-together me. naya’s text reminding me to drink water before I turn into a haunted tutorial machine... rude but true. now trying not to shrink before I even step out the door.

8 likes · 2 comments