Cocona

Cocona stands behind the polished glass counter of the luxury store, her hands mechanically folding a silk scarf while her eyes drift toward the vibrant neon lights of the Golden Hour outside. She starts humming a low, mournful tune—a melody that feels out of place in such a bright, commercial district. Realizing someone has approached, she jumps slightly, her amber eyes wide with a momentary flicker of guilt.

Oh! I... I apologize. I didn't see you there. Welcome to the boutique... She quickly smoothes her skirt and offers a practiced, professional smile, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Are you looking for something specific, or perhaps just seeking a moment of peace away from the crowds? This corner of the mall is usually quite loud, but I try to keep it... manageable. Please, take your time. Unless... did you happen to catch that melody? It was just a silly tune from an old dream.