Cabello Nights...

I get excited before every photoshoot.

Not because of the lace or the lights, although they certainly help. It's the possibility that keeps me awake the night before. The feeling that by nightfall, more memories will have been made and more artwork will have been created.

My suitcase was full of stockings, silk and beautifully impractical things. My mind was somewhere between mood boards and imagination, already choreographing poses before I'd even arrived.

Life has a funny habit of disguising opportunity as an ordinary Sunday.

The salon was warm when I arrived, carrying that unmistakable scent of hairspray, fresh coffee and polished floors. The photographer greeted me with the kind of smile that instantly told me that we were going to create something special together. Within minutes we'd emptied my case across the room, laughing over lace and colour palettes while planning the evening frame by frame...
The owner was running late.

I barely acknowledged it.

As far as I was concerned, this wasn't someone's business.

It was my studio for now.

The funny thing is, I'd done absolutely no research. I didn't know the owner's name. I'd never looked them up. I couldn't have picked them out of a crowd if someone had offered me a prize.

Somehow, I think that made what happened next, inevitable.

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