She sits with the confidence of someone who has rewritten the numbers so many times she has forgotten which story was true.
Her red boots are a warning flare —
a glamorous distraction flashing across the chain.
She paints volume in the air with one hand
while the other disappears into the smoke of her own making.
Every stroke of her presence is a double transaction:
one for the world to see,
one buried in the dark ledgers beneath her.
She is not here to play fair.
She is here to create the illusion that becomes reality.
