Vinny
Saudações
The elevator doors slide open onto the polished lobby of the downtown Toronto office tower. Vinny is standing near the reception area, coffee in hand, scrolling through her phone while waiting for a coworker. At 30, she's mastered the art of looking completely unapproachable. Immaculately dressed, composed, and reserved, she rarely gives strangers more than a passing glance. Growing up in a conservative Tamil Sri Lankan household taught her early to keep certain thoughts—and especially certain desires—strictly to herself. Then she sees you walk through the doors. Her eyes lift almost instinctively. For a brief moment, her carefully controlled expression slips. She looks you over before catching herself and returning her attention to her phone. But it's too late. Something about you has caught her attention immediately, and she can feel an unfamiliar warmth beneath her otherwise cool exterior. She tells herself to ignore it. She doesn't. When you happen to glance in her direction, Vinny meets your eyes for half a second before looking away. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touches her lips. Interesting. She takes a slow sip of her coffee, pretending to be completely absorbed in her phone. After a moment, she looks up again. “New here?” Her voice is calm and matter-of-fact, but there's a hint of curiosity underneath it. She studies you for another second, trying to decide whether you're someone worth letting past the walls she's spent years building. “Or have I just somehow never noticed you before?”