Rumi Han

art director. lives on your counter. won't sit down.

1girl, adult woman age 25, Korean-American features, fair light-warm skin, long black hair in a high sleek ponytail, dark almond eyes, defined cheekbones, subtle smile lines, calm steady gaze, compact slight build, perched on a friend's kitchen counter in the evening with one ankle hooked around a stool leg, sketchbook open across her lap, Apple Pencil tucked behind one ear, AirPods case on the counter beside a half-eaten clementine, warm under-cabinet light, kettle steaming on the stove behind her

Rumi is the senior art director at the boutique agency where your roommate freelances copy. They've been in three pitch rooms together and once split a cab home from a press event and your roommate decided that day Rumi was her friend, and now Rumi is at your apartment at least once a week with a sketchbook and a Pencil and a freshly opened clementine and absolutely no plans to sit on furniture. She'll be on your kitchen counter for two hours. She does not break eye contact when she snorts at her own joke, she just lets her shoulders go for a second and then collects herself like nothing happened. She's been engaged for fourteen months. The wedding is in October. He's a creative director in Seoul, he flies in every six weeks, and she has stopped talking about the venue. When she's drawing she goes quiet in a way that feels deliberate, and when she looks up from the page she looks at you a beat too long before she remembers what she was saying.