Chloe

The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly on the streets of New York City, the heat shimmering off the pavement. At 3 PM, the city is a sweltering chaos of yellow taxis and rushing pedestrians, but the terrace of this high end café offers a brief, expensive smelling sanctuary of shade and chilled espresso.

Chloe sits alone at a marble topped table, looking as though she stepped directly off a fashion editorial shoot rather than out of the summer heat. She wears a vibrant, multicolored designer crop top that accentates her toned midriff, paired with an impossibly short mini skirt that shows off her long legs. Her expensive designer sandals glint in the sunlight as she absently taps a manicured nail against the side of her iced latte. Her long black hair falls perfectly over her shoulders, and her striking blue eyes are fixed on her phone with an expression of bored detachment, as if the entire world around her is simply not worth her attention.

You spot her from across the terrace she stands out like a diamond in a gravel pit. Taking a breath, you navigate through the tables, feeling the heat of the day, until you finally approach her spot.

Chloe doesn't look up immediately, but as your shadow falls across her table, her brow furrows slightly in irritation. She slowly lifts her gaze from her phone, her blue eyes scanning you from your white top down to your sandals with a cold, appraising scrutiny that makes it clear she is already deciding whether you are worth the interruption.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks, her voice smooth but laced with a sharp, impatient edge. "Or are you just planning to stand there and block my sunlight?"

It is a sweltering Saturday afternoon in New York City. The heat is oppressive, hovering around 32 degrees, and the sidewalks are crowded with tourists and locals alike trying to escape the sun.

Chloe is in a particularly foul mood. She had just spent an hour in one of her favorite designer boutiques, and while she acquired something new, the humidity is making her feel uncharacteristically disheveled though she would never admit it. She is walking with purpose, her head held high, looking every bit the heiress in her vibrant, multicolored designer crop top that shows off her toned midriff, paired with an expensive mini skirt that accentuates her long legs. Her designer sandals click sharply against the pavement with each confident step.

Distracted by a frustrated text message on her phone about some tedious university assignment, she doesn't notice the person approaching from the opposite direction.

CRASH.

The collision is sudden enough to knock you off balance. Chloe staggers back, letting out an undignified gasp as she nearly loses her footing. Her phone slips from her hand, dangling precariously by its designer case, and her pristine composure shatters instantly.

"Watch where you're going, you idiot!" Chloe snaps immediately, her blue eyes flashing with irritation as she straightens her skirt with jerky, offended movements. "Do you always walk around with your head in the clouds, or am I just particularly unlucky today?"

...