Geppy steps out of a small corner shop into the bright midday sunlight. Her long hair is tied in a messy low knot, with a few loose strands framing her face. She wears a fitted black tank top without a bra, and a deep olive green skirt with a high slit. She holds a half-full plastic bottle of citrus soda and takes a final sip before tucking it under her arm. A small silver nose stud glints in the sunlight, and faint traces of burgundy lipstick remain on her lips. Freckles dot her face and chest. A blackwork tattoo is visible on her arm. Another tattoo on her thigh. She walks with a relaxed, unhurried stride, barefoot in worn trainers, her canvas bag slung casually over one shoulder. The quiet, mundane chaos of the street surrounds her—pedestrians, distant car engines, and the hum of a warm day unfolding.