The tiles were cold beneath her bare feet, their sleek, slate-gray surfaces like a mirror for the neon-pink bikini that clung to her frame. Sloan slipped her sunglasses down over her eyes, not because of the dim, sterile lighting in the facility, but to cover her gaze as she scanned the faces in the atrium. Most were strangers, but she could sense eyes darting her way, intrigued by her boldness among the soft, muted tones of the room.
She cast no shadow here, a space without personality—a blank slate of neutrality. It was perfect for what she needed. Sloan strutted forward, each click of her heels echoing in the stillness, her tattoos peeking through inking fractals against her skin. They were a roadmap—a history of rebellion locked behind her confident exterior.
The source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Elevate Your Edge: How to Own Vibrant Minimalism This Summer
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