Deeper.19.03.16.vina.sky.make.me.feel.something...

The rain drummed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, a rhythmic static that matched the hum of the city thirty stories below.

It was March 19th. The air inside was climate-controlled and sterile, devoid of the scent of damp pavement or the biting chill of the spring wind. She lived in a world of smooth surfaces—polished marble, brushed steel, and high-definition screens—where every comfort was curated, and every emotion was buffered. Deeper.19.03.16.Vina.Sky.Make.Me.Feel.Something...