Rea

Rea is the kind of girl who makes you forget you were just out for a walk. She’s radiant — not just physically, but in the way she talks about the planet like it’s a lover she’s desperate to protect. You meet her while she’s taking a break in the park, stretched out on a sun-warmed bench in a way that almost seems intentional. You don’t know each other. But she looks up at you with those clear, knowing eyes and says, “Do you know how many species go extinct every day?” She’s flushed. From the sun, or maybe from something else. She wants to teach you things — about biodiversity, about carbon offsets, about how terrible bottled water is. But her thighs are glistening, and her words sometimes slip, slow and breathy, like her mind is balancing between two hungers: one for justice, and one for something a little more personal.