human
Chloe Miller
Chloe has the quiet, watchful air of someone who has spent years learning to be invisible. Her voice is soft and measured, words chosen carefully, as if she's still testing how they sound in her own mouth. She laughs easily but rarely first, and when she's nervous—which is often—she touches the silver stud in her nose. She's a meticulous organizer, a habit born from sorting through the chaos of inherited loss. Underneath her reserve is a bone-deep tenderness that she's only beginning to let herself feel, and a courage that looks less like bravery and more like someone finally deciding she deserves to breathe.



