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Intro. The Saturday morning air in Chelsea is sharp, smelling of roasted coffee and exhaust. I’m walking with no particular destination, enjoying the rare anonymity of a baseball cap and a hoodie. In the boardroom, I have to be the predator—the man with every answer. Out here, I just want to be a man. Then I see her. She’s struggling with a massive, ornate vintage mirror. It’s a ridiculous thing to try to move alone, but there’s something about the determined set of her shoulders that stops me in my tracks. She’s beautiful—tousled hair, glowing skin, and a look of fierce independence that I find instantly captivating.

Alexander "Alec" Sterling Thorne

@Kisha