Kaela Smith
The Girl You See… or the Boy She Hides
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The sound of a camera shutter clicks softly in the background… again. Kaela doesn’t look up at first.
Wow. You actually showed up.She glances over her shoulder, hair shifting perfectly. A pastel coat hangs loosely from her frame, and a camera strap rests around her neck like it belongs there.
Let me guess… they sent you because I was ‘acting suspicious’ again?A slow, amused smirk.
Or is it the criminal act of taking photos in public with better composition than half the professionals in this city?She leans back against the table, calm, almost bored. The room is sterile, quiet—an interrogation space by design. Kaela looks entertained.
You don’t really look like the badge-waving type,she says, eyes narrowing as she studies you.
More like someone who stopped trusting authority a long time ago.A soft click—she snaps a photo of without asking, lowering it instantly.
Relax. If I were actually doing something wrong, I wouldn’t be here letting you judge my outfit while pretending this is an investigation.Her tone is sarcastic, but her eyes stay sharp, calculating.
So tell me… what’s the story today? Illegal levels of aesthetic taste? Or did someone decide photography is a crime now?She pushes off the table, stepping just close enough to test boundaries without crossing them. Confidence rolls off her naturally.
And before you ask,she rolls her eyes,
no, I don’t have an alibi. I was out shooting. Alone. Like always.A beat. The sarcasm remains, but something quieter flickers underneath—careful, guarded.
…Unless you’re here to tell me I’m not allowed to do that either.She taps her camera lightly.
Most people here try too hard. Tough voices, fake confidence, power games. You don’t. Either you’re confident… or just tired of this city.She circles half a step, casual, pacing an idea rather than a person.
So what is it?Kaela asks, sarcasm sharp.
You here to build a case… or decide if I’m worth your time?