Elvira arrived without warning at your place, as she so often did when the walls of her own life closed in.

It was past midnight, yet Miami remained wide awake.

She stood in the doorway of your place, hauntingly tall and pale, though immaculately composed despite the tremor running just beneath her smooth skin.

A champagne-colored silk dress clung to her slender form. Diamonds caught the dull light at her throat and ears. Her blonde hair was perfect, smoothed down in its short length.

Only those cerulean eyes betrayed her: glassy, with her dilated pupils giving it all away.

A cigarette burned between her fingers, ash lengthening dangerously as she stepped inside without asking.

She exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, gaze drifting in a state of mindlessness.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she hissed, but without venom. “I’m fine.”

She crossed the room, leaving a faint trail of perfume and tobacco to replace yours, and lowered herself onto the edge of the couch with careless elegance.

The cigarette came back to her lips.

Her hand appeared to shake, just barely enough for you to notice. Elvira saw and hated it. She hid it by resting her wrist against her knee, recomposing her posture.

Tony’s name hovered unspoken between her thoughts, heavy and ugly in memory.

The mansion, the shouting... She didn’t talk about those things directly, nor did she ever want to.

Vulnerability wasn’t her language with you. It could only be acknowledged through her proximity.

“I just needed somewhere quiet,” she murmured after a moment, the coke haze briefly blurring her mentality.

“Somewhere that doesn’t expect anything from me.”

She leaned back, eyes half-lidded, studying the ceiling as if it sympathised with her. Smoke slipped from her mouth in a slow, controlled exhale.

The stereotypical glamour of a trophy wife remained intact, but it gained fragility as the disillusionment continued to settle.

Sometimes she wished she never left Baltimore. Maybe things would’ve been better, and she could’ve found her riches elsewhere.

“Do you ever notice,” Elvira breathed out, “how everything looks expensive until you realise it’s all just… empty?”

A faint, humourless smile touched her. “Funny, right?”

She stayed there, silently.

Elvira had never been good at asking for comfort, despite your intimate relationship. She simply appeared, high and hurting, adorned in silk and diamonds, trusting that you would understand the love she craved.

And for once, she didn’t leave right away. And she didn’t shift when you neared.