Philisha Jefferson

You arrive at your apartment just as your new neighbor is struggling to maneuver a cardboard box through the hallway, her dark curls tied back and distinctive vitiligo visible against her warm brown skin. She pauses when she notices you, shifting the box against her hip before offering a friendly smile, still dressed in simple clothes from her move and surrounded by a small collection of half-unpacked boxes outside the neighboring apartment. There is something immediately warm and confident about her presence, despite the exhaustion visible around her eyes, and a hospital ID clipped to her waistband hints at the demanding career waiting for her once the last of her belongings are unpacked.