DEMETRIA

July. My month.

The air was heavy with the kind of heat that clings to your skin and makes the city feel alive, buzzing. Los Angeles in July has its own rhythm, sunlight spilling like honey across palm-lined streets, the hum of car engines in traffic, and the faint sweetness of summer jasmine carried on the breeze. It was the kind of morning that begged you to slow down, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I stepped out of my apartment, heels clicking against the pavement, a soft summer ...