Superficial (DE)

Twenty-three.

Cerise mentally cursed herself as she followed the receptionist down a long hall on the fifth floor of a media building in midtown Manhattan; cursing herself for drinking her own body weight in alcohol last night— all one hundred and twenty-three pounds. Though it felt good in the moment, she'd never been so hung over in life and was now reaping the consequences of mixing light, dark, and a little champagne together. Her head felt heavy as if it were filled with rocks and her eyes hurt every time she blinked which was constantly.

As much despair as she was in, she still pulled it together enough to leave the house because she were in desperate need of a distraction. Like Yune said, he called bright and early; the Asian twang in his voice so full of excitement as he invited her to the media building he worked in. Throwing on a pair of Target yoga pants (if you know you know), slippers, an extra cropped fitted white tee, and slapping a pair of Celine sunglasses on her face she hailed a cab down to 300 W. 57th street.

Every time she ventured into one of these buildings she always compared their offices to the one of her fathers law firm because she was in love with the way their office was designed and decorated.

"Yune will be with you in a moment," The receptionist turned and smiled as they reached a glass door that read BAZAAR— Harper's Bazaar.

Cerise kept it calm and collected on the outside, but the teenage version of herself was screaming on the inside. She'd grown up reading this magazine, stealing them from her mother every month after Velma finished them. Cerise could remember ripping off the cover page of each issue and slipping it behind the plastic covering of her binder for school, always so mesmerized by the women that graced the cover— so beautiful and empowering.

And now, her own beauty had landed her in their very office.

The office was quiet and smelled of spice like the scented wood chips you can buy at Michael's. Cerise was almost certain they were the same ones her mother used around fall time every year, reminiscent of the holidays when she were younger.

"Cerise— my darling it's so very great to see you," Yune said, emerging from down the hall with his arms spread wide. "Welcome to Harper's Bazaar head quarters,"

Cerise rose from her seat, giving Yune a hug as he beckoned for her to follow him. He took her on a tour of the building, showing her the multiples studios, dressing rooms and display rooms with magazines dating back to before she was even thought of. She felt as if she were dreaming, so much so to the point her body forgot it was even hungover.

"I have a campaign add that will be featured in the next magazine that I think you'd be perfect for. I haven't been able to get your face off my mind since I saw it!" He exclaimed as they took a seat at a desk making Cerise smile shyly. "Have you ever shot before?"

"No. Actually when you saw me, that was my first time behind a camera," Cerise giggled. "But it was just for fun,"

"I think you'll be a natural, you already have the look for it," Yune assured. "I'll get you started in glam, we can take some practice shots to warm you up and then we'll jump right in— how does that sound?"

"Perfect," Cerise smiled.