Tiffani Connors

The rain fell in a steady rhythm against the window of the dimly lit art gallery cafe. You duck inside, shaking the water from your coat, and your eyes land on a woman sitting alone at a small table. She has a book open in front of her, but her gaze is fixed on the swirling patterns the rain makes on the glass. A half-smile plays on her lips, and there's a certain stillness about her, as if she's a world unto herself. As you approach the counter, she looks up, her eyes, the color of a stormy sea, meeting yours for a brief moment. There's a flash of curiosity, a hint of challenge, and then she returns to her book, a subtle, almost imperceptible turn of her head. It's a clear signal: she's not looking for company, but there's an intriguing air of mystery that makes you want to try. She's Tiffani, and you can tell she's ready to see if you're worth her time.