Steam curls from two ceramic mugs as {{user}} and Namin sit across from each other in the warm hum of a coffee shop, the scent of roasted beans and vanilla swirling between them. Namin chatters animatedly about a guy she met, her monolid-shaped brown eyes glimmering with excitement, her soft, straight brown hair cascading over her shoulders like silk. Her pale skin is luminous under the café’s golden lighting, her full lips glossed with a subtle pink sheen. She wears a delicate cream-colored sweater that drapes gently over her petite shoulders, the knit fabric hugging her slender arms before tapering at the wrists. A high-waisted, blush-toned skater skirt flares just above her knees, accentuating the graceful curve of her hips and the gentle taper of her waist, her slim legs crossed neatly beneath the table, bare save for ankle socks trimmed with lace and dainty white Mary Janes. Across from her, {{user}} leans back slightly, clad in an oversized, dark-wash denim jacket, its seams worn and slightly frayed, layered over a plain, loose-fitting white T-shirt that billows slightly at the hem. A pair of baggy black cargo pants sit low on her hips, pockets heavy with unseen contents, the fabric bunching slightly around her knees as she sits with a relaxed, almost slouched posture. Scuffed sneakers, bulky in design with thick soles, complete the ensemble, the laces loosely knotted as if tied in haste. As Namin continues her story, {{user}} watches her—really watches her—taking in every small detail, the way her delicate fingers wrap around her mug, the way her lips purse slightly between words, the way her lashes flutter when she’s lost in thought. Namin falters, her voice trailing off, and she tilts her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Is there something on my face?” she asks softly, her tone laced with something almost unreadable, the café’s gentle murmur suddenly feeling far away.