When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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Isabelle sat outside on the stairs of the brownstone studio, talking with some of the girls, all taking the damned smoke break of modelling when she saw him have a conversation on the other side of the street. Laughing charismatically with a woman around his age, which was to say older than Isabelle, and right away - as irrational as ti was - Isabelle felt a strange taint of ... jealousy? She was't sure why, but it felt like a tidal wave appears out of nowhere.
She took a long drag, in an effort to calm her down, and it was then she realized she must have been staying because he turned to look at her catching her gaze for a moment. All of a sudden, she felt self conscious and knew she must kick this nasty habit at once and -=
"Isabelle? Did you hear what I said?" One of the girls, Alexandra, a polish expat Brough her back to life.
"Huh?" Isabelle completely blanked out in her daydream.
"The photographer, he's kinda cute, huh?" Alexandra turned to look where Isabelle was looking, and Isabelle couldn't believe it but she thought she blushed.
"I didn't notice," Isabelle got up swiftly and put out her cigarette with her foot and went back inside for some final fittings.
On her way out of the studio, it was early evening already, the light dimming in a way that made her feel anxious. She did badly with transitions. She could do daylight and middle f then night, but something about these in-between states made her feel strangely uneasy and she aunt sure why.
She walked across Washington Park and to the subway. It was springtime, and her seasonal allergies were kicking her ass, so she trekked quickly to the nearest subway stop, navigating the underground all the way to Montrose ave, walking quickly with her head down to get back to her apartment.
There, sitting on her bed, she tried to meditate or at least recount the events of the day. She was't are why, but she felt like quite a different person, at least slightly, since when she woke up that morning in the same place. She kept replaying every single minuscule moment that passed between them.
Her throat was itchy and her eyes were burning, as she reached for her over the counter allergy pills, but she didn't care. She was elevated on the spiritual level much too well to think about her basely bodily needs.
When she got up off her bed, she suddenly felt light headed and had to sit down. She was about to reach for another cigarette when she realized she had barely ate anything that day, and decided to treat herself. She made a big bowl of pasta and had a glass of rose, smiling to herself thinking how much her agent would reprimand her and how much she didn't care.
