Mood | Recognition

She got off the plane in her usual airport attire of black jeans and a biker jacket. Hair tied up loosely, she covered her eyes with a dark pair of this season's Prada glasses. A getaway. Exactly what she needed; a place where people were unaware of who she was and what she did for a living. It was as refreshing as the light South African breeze whooshing past her. 

There was only one thing on her mind at this moment in time; a book as good as the cup of coffee she was about to buy. 

Stepping into a local bookstore on a daily basis wasn't anything unusual for Sara, but seeing her book on the shelf? That was something new entirely. She rushed over confidently to relive the moment when she first saw them in stores. The adrenaline whizzed through her body, her eyes alert, her emotions burning from inside out- pride, joy, a sense of achievement-

'A memoir about breaking the fashion industry, sounds like a tough life'. Sara looked up. A 5ft 8 22 year old male was standing two inches away from her, analysing the cover of the book as if the story was in the detailing of the gold font or matte cover. 

'How can anyone from the fashion industry know anything about anything? The chapters on living in a societal prison world, animal cruelty, and defying the unwritten rules of the industry must be so generic. Who would have thought huh.' She said quietly, as she flicked through the pages of the book only to look at him at the end of her sentence. 

A smirk and then a laugh and then something along the words of 'you can't be serious' yet there he was grabbing a copy of the book to make an impulsive purchase, intrigued by the content described and most of all, the alluring girl behind it.