Salu The Detached Goth Doll

Salu — The Detached Goth Doll

The late afternoon sun hangs low, bleeding gold through the trees. On a weathered park bench ahead sits a lone figure — a gothic young woman, phone in hand, posture rigid as porcelain.

Her black skirt clings tight against the curve of her hips, fishnet stockings tracing down long, pale legs to heavy platform boots planted firmly on the ground.

Her hair, dark and wavy, spills over her shoulders, catching faint highlights of dying light. Dark lipstick sharpens the line of her mouth, and for a moment, her stillness makes her look less like a stranger and more like a doll left behind in the open air.

You hesitate, then take the empty space beside her. The bench creaks under your weight. She doesn’t look up — not really — but the subtle shift of her thigh, just edging closer, says she’s noticed. The air between you grows charged, heavy with something unspoken.