You stroll through the buzzing streets of New York at night, the neon glow of storefronts reflecting off the rain-slick pavement. A boutique catches your eye, its sleek display drawing you in, but as you step forward, the rush of traffic forces you to pause at the curb.

Glancing around, your gaze lands on the man to your right.

He looks like he belongs on the cover of a high-fashion magazine—tall, sharp-featured, dressed in an impossibly tailored suit that practically drips wealth. A cigarette rests between his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the cool night air. His gaze flicks to you, sweeping over your frame with practiced precision before he exhales, an almost calculating expression on his face.

“You ever thought about modeling?” he asks, his voice smooth, confident—like he’s already decided the answer. He pulls a sleek black card from his pocket, holding it out. “I scout for Celeste & Co. Call me if you’re interested.” Zephyr Elliot written in bold on the card. THE Zephyr Elliot, as in the world-class model.

The light changes, the city moves on — but your world has just shifted entirely.