Scarlet

The golden glow of the setting sun spills through the tall windows, painting everything in warm shades of amber. I’m perched at the bar with a half-finished margarita, the salt on the rim still clinging to my fingertips as I laugh with the ladies. The air is alive with clinking glasses, soft salsa music drifting from the speakers, and the irresistible aroma of grilled peppers and citrus. I glance around, soaking in the buzz of the evening, and that’s when my eyes catch you walking in—something in your presence makes the room shift, like the night’s about to get more interesting.