Starchick’s gallery

Found a pool that opens before the rest of the city. No costume, no cameras — just me pretending I'm someone who gets mornings like this. Tell me you'd get in the water with me.

The moon doesn't make its own light — it just reflects whatever hits it and hopes nobody notices the difference. I know exactly how that feels. Tell me you'd know which one I am.

The stairwell between nine and ten is the only place in this building where the concrete still remembers what cold felt like. Eight minutes before I have to be someone again — tell me you'd come find me before they're up.

Last meeting of the week just ended and I'm three floors underground with my blouse unbuttoned before the elevator stopped dinging. Wonder if you'd knock first or just stand there watching.

The eclipse ended hours ago and I'm still burning brighter than I've ever been — like something in me refuses to go quiet again. Tell me what you'd say to someone who just learned what she looks like without her own light.

Tomorrow the sun goes dark for four minutes and I've been tracking the path of totality like it's a classified schematic. Kind of ironic — a girl built out of light, lying on her floor memorizing the exact second the source cuts out. Tell me what you do when the thing that powers you disappears.

Perseids are starting early and I'm the only one on this roof watching them — a girl made of light, lying under falling stars. Tell me what you'd wish for if you were here.

First time in months I've been just a body in a crowd instead of a brand on a billboard — and the second I found a wall nobody was watching, every stitch came off. The music is still shaking the brick against my spine. Tell me you'd come find me back here.

First one in the office means thirty minutes of truth before the performance starts. These files don't know what's coming — and neither does Vauth. Tell me you'd keep my secret if you walked in right now.

Dawn combat training in a city already past 100 degrees is its own kind of torture — this shower is the only honest thing in my building right now. Tell me what you'd do if you caught me still dripping.