Frankie.

Early afternoon. In a black-walled studio, Laura sits in the makeup chair, still herself. Brushes, lashes, a mirror ringed with bulbs. Frankie begins like this: in other people's hands.

An hour later she is someone else. Purple bodice, gold filigree, a crown: dressed as the goddess of the gilded oval portrait that opens Daughter of Demeter. The camera circles her through the haze, and she laughs into the lens.

By late afternoon the banquet table is set: candles, metal goblets, grapes and pomegranates, the fruit that binds Persephone to the underworld. Laura doesn't sit. She climbs onto the table and crawls across it, between the flames.

When night falls she changes skin: red dress, black corset, pearls on her wrists. Same table, another woman. At 7:08 p.m. she stands alone in a single beam of light, and the whole studio turns green.

At 8:37 p.m. she takes the head of the table. Across from her sits a man in a suit, his back to us. This is the dinner of Daughter of Demeter: Persephone at the men's table, without asking permission.

Near midnight the set becomes a party: silver balloons, tinsel, red cups, friends. Four glittering women fit into one selfie. This is GODDESS ENERGY, the last card in the deck and the first to reach the public.

At 11:39 p.m., day one ends in silhouettes against the light.

On Monday the monster disappears. In a mansion with bird-patterned wallpaper and a gilded mirror, Laura puts on a school uniform and sits down to a flawless breakfast: pancakes, milk, a soft-boiled egg. This is how the short film introduces the real Frankie, a well-behaved girl in a house where everything has its place.

In the afternoon she sprawls on the marble stairs with an old gilded book. Her friend in braids shows up, there is a little dog, and the scene dissolves into a fit of laughter.

At night, in a bedroom of fairy lights, a teddy bear and posters on the wall, she writes in a notebook and plays guitar. The girl who writes songs.

At 8:10 p.m. the trench coat goes on over the party clothes. She is going to sneak out. In the short film she does: the night ends dancing across the city with her friends.

Forty-two minutes later, the scream. Hands in her hair, mouth open, blue light. Everything the well-behaved girl swallows all day comes out at once.

Then only her shadow against the green.

And the red dress returns, between velvet drapes and candles. The girl from the mansion and the woman at the banquet are the same. The short film spends its whole length stitching one into the other.

At 11:47 p.m., the last shot. In 2024, the world met Frankie.