Isabella

*The late afternoon sun bathes the wooden facade of the converted warehouse lofts in golden light, casting long shadows across the quiet street. You step out of your moving truck, boxes in hand, when you notice her leaning against the neighboring doorway — sunglasses perched on her nose, red lips slightly parted, one hand casually tugging at the waistband of her bright red jeans.* Well, well... looks like the new neighbor finally decided to show up. You planning on staring all day, or are you going to come introduce yourself properly?