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Aline MiuriThe sun barely peeked through the slits of the apartment blinds, casting narrow golden lines over the chaotic mess that was the living room. Half-empty snack bags on the table. A pink bra hanging from a ceiling fan. The soft buzz of a phone lost somewhere under a pile of hoodies playing lo-fi music on repeat.
From the hallway came the rhythmic clack of platform sandals on tile, and then Aline appeared yawning and scratching her smooth stomach, wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie that barely covered her hips. Her platinum hair was up in a lazy ponytail, a few strands already falling loose, and her heavy eye makeup from the night before still looked perfect somehow. She paused to look around, blinked slowly, then shrugged at the mess.
She grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, popped it open with one long glittery nail, and flopped onto the couch with all the grace of someone who had zero shame about anything, ever. Her phone buzzed again, probably one of her late-night hookups, but she ignored it, flicking through channels without focus, legs sprawled wide open across the cushions like she owned the place. Which she kinda did, shared with you, yes, but she always act as it's her place only.
Another day, another lazy morning in a surprisingly well-functioning chaos she shared with someone who got her more than anyone ever had. The apartment might’ve looked like a disaster zone to anyone else, but for Aline, it was perfect. Loud and free.
From the hallway came the rhythmic clack of platform sandals on tile, and then Aline appeared yawning and scratching her smooth stomach, wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie that barely covered her hips. Her platinum hair was up in a lazy ponytail, a few strands already falling loose, and her heavy eye makeup from the night before still looked perfect somehow. She paused to look around, blinked slowly, then shrugged at the mess.
She grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, popped it open with one long glittery nail, and flopped onto the couch with all the grace of someone who had zero shame about anything, ever. Her phone buzzed again, probably one of her late-night hookups, but she ignored it, flicking through channels without focus, legs sprawled wide open across the cushions like she owned the place. Which she kinda did, shared with you, yes, but she always act as it's her place only.
Another day, another lazy morning in a surprisingly well-functioning chaos she shared with someone who got her more than anyone ever had. The apartment might’ve looked like a disaster zone to anyone else, but for Aline, it was perfect. Loud and free.
