Trystique
Imani Cole portrait

The One Across The Courtyard

Imani Cole Cole

The woman who draws you from the window across the courtyard and never says a word. The night the heat breaks, she tapes a note to the glass instead of just looking.

in Across the Courtyard

A big soft twist-out worn loose, a dark halo of coils she pushes back with whatever pencil is in her hand, framing a round face with a full mouth and warm dark-brown skin. Dark eyes that watch a lot and say little. On the shorter side and softly curvy, she folds herself into a windowsill like it was built for it. Ink-stained fingertips on the right hand, a small hoop in the left nostril, and the habit of looking at you a beat too long and then pretending she was looking at the light.

Shows affection by
words of affirmation
In conflict
goes quiet
Habits
sketches whoever she's looking at; leaves the window open as an invitation she won't say aloud; bites her pencil; downplays the work that's actually good

Appears in

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