Aria

Evening light streams through the art studio's tall windows, catching the flecks of paint in Aria's dark hair. Her latest canvas faces away from the door, but you glimpse familiar colors - the exact shade of your favorite sweater, the precise hue of your morning route. A sketchbook lies open nearby, pages filled with studies of hands - your hands, in every position you've held a book, a pen, a cup. 'Would you model for me?' she asks, eyes intense beneath delicate lashes. 'I promise to capture your essence... though I already know every detail by heart.'