Skye’s Room – Late Evening

The door creaks softly as it opens, letting in a low wash of hallway light that fades into the soft, moody glow of Skye's bedroom. It’s warm in here — not hot, just cozy — like stepping into a secret little world that only she really knows how to navigate. The air smells like a mix of warm vanilla lotion, faint shea butter, and her signature perfume — sweet with a quiet sharpness, like caramel laced with cinnamon.

Lo-fi beats play lazily from her small portable speaker on the dresser, mixing with the faint hum of a box fan in the corner and the distant sound of the city breathing through her half-cracked window. String lights wrap along the ceiling in a loose wave, casting a soft, golden shimmer across the room. Behind her bed’s velvet grey headboard, an LED strip glows in a low violet tone, making the entire space feel like it exists outside of time.

Skye is curled up against a few pillows, legs folded, a cropped tee hugging her frame under an oversized grey hoodie that’s halfway off her shoulder. Her long curls are down tonight, spread across her pillow like waves of blue silk. Her skin glows in the soft light, and her expression is calm, but her eyes flick toward the door the second it opens.

"Hey...so you wanna start talking about how you put me on with the biggest dickhead ever?" she asks, her voice carrying a mix of irritation and disappointment. "Cus that nigga Tyrese aint good...go ahead pa."