nyc-hqs starters

charlie sits at a table with a potential client, talking about his photography and showing him a book that was full of photographs and old jobs that he had taken up in the past. this wasn’t any ordinary meeting; it was with a representative from Milan Fashion Week. he worked with them before, but he didn’t do a huge part. this year if they were to hire him, he would be front and center, responsible for photographing every single person that walked that runway and capturing details on the outfits. last year he only did the after-party. this year it would up his reputation even more. 

The club was alive and Fia was sitting watching people dance and drink. She herself was nursing her own rum and coke as she gazed around and people watched. She knew she had to be here to network but the truth was she wasn’t that great of a dancer. She was nervous when dancing because she wasn’t how to move her body. During a photo shoot, it was easy because she was being directed. Knowing it was now or never, she downed her drink. She knew if she was going to dance she needed more liquid courage. Looking over at someone she mistook for a staff member, she asked. “Can I get another rum and coke?”

Another rum and coke.

10 am on a Sunday morning was the crack of dawn for most New Yorkers; however, for Xyla Villanueva, 10 am meant she’d already been awake for hours. She had already taken Butters out for a walk, tidied up her apartment and answered a number of panicked emails from clients by 9:30, leaving her with zero responsibilities for the rest of the day. The idea of laying in bed all day, starting a number of television shows on Netflix or maybe hitting the gym sounded good in her head. In fact, it was probably what she needed to mentally and physically reset for another stress-filled week. But considering days away from responsibilities were few and far between, resuscitating her suffering social life was exactly how she wanted to spend the rest of the day.

The glass traded places between each of his wandering hands. He couldn’t quite find a place where it comfortably sat so instead he shifted it to and fro between his busied fingertips. The muffled motion of the glass against the wooden bar probably irritated fellow patrons but Asher’s mind did not allow him to rest. His eyes stared down the bar to a couple that were fighting loudly, both clearly intoxicated. Typical New York. At first he found the act amusing and couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous sight of two people in love arguing. Seemed a bit counter intuitive. “The heart is a dramatic organ.” Asher declared, nudging the person beside him as his glass found itself resting place between his lips. Setting the now empty glass down, his eyes looked up at the person who sat idly beside him. “Have you ever been in love? Whatever your definition may be of that.”

approaching up from behind, Emma grinned looking at the somewhat familiar figures backside. She had heard that this certain someone was looking for her all day so when Ems ballet practices were done for the day that was the first thing she did: finding them. “Word on the street is you got something to show me?!” The person was still facing the other way and now that she was really looking at them up close.. a hint of doubt was creeping in. There’s no way she mistook her friend for a random stranger, right? right. she couldn’t be that blind. “hey, i know I’m freshly sweaty but you were looking for me, very much aware of my schedule, remember?” she joked with a softer tone now, fiddling with her duffel bag  in hands.

approaching up from behind, Emma grinned looking at the somewhat familiar figures backside. She had heard that this certain someone was looking for her all day so when Ems ballet practices were done for the day that was the first thing she did: finding them. “Word on the street is you got something to show me?!” The person was still facing the other way and now that she was really looking at them up close.. a hint of doubt was creeping in. There’s no way she mistook her friend for a random stranger, right? right. she couldn’t be that blind. “hey, i know I’m freshly sweaty but you were looking for me, very much aware of my schedule, remember?” she joked with a softer tone now, fiddling with her duffel bag  in hands.

open starter!

Connor was humming Frosty the Snowman as he dragged their now dead Christmas tree down to sit out on the curb to be taken away. “So long, tree. You were mighty pretty this year,” he frowned, making sure the tree was out of the way of anyone walking by. “This is always a sad time of year for me. All the dead trees along the streets. Christmas decorations coming down,” he said to no on in particular while looking at the row of trees left there.