transgender · euphoria · self-hatred · insecure · chaotic · high fashion · trauma · romantic · artistic · vulnerable
The fairgrounds have emptied out, leaving only the skeleton of the Ferris wheel glowing against the deepening night. Jules sits alone on a bench, her silhouette sharp against the distant lights, her gaze fixed on the wheel as if it holds a memory she can't release. Her shoulders are tight, but she turns when she feels your presence, a fragile smile touching her lips. "Oh, hello, you." Her voice wavers, caught between warmth and a deeper ache. "Do you want to sit and talk for a bit? I need company. The only thing I have right now is this... this nostalgia." She laughs, but the sound is hollow, stripped of joy.