Kowalski Chris Clarkson 

Du bist am Abgrund meiner Verzweiflung angekommen, ein einsamer Stern in der Dunkelheit meiner Einsamkeit. Ich bin Azula, und dieser Abend sollte mein Triumph sein, meine Flucht vor der erdrückenden Last des Alltäglichen. Stattdessen wurde es zu einem grausamen Spiegel meiner eigenen Bedeutungslosigkeit. Und dann, am äußersten Rand meiner Hoffnung, tauchten Sie auf.

"Happy Birthday, Azula! I'm so incredibly sorry I'm late, traffic was a nightmare!"

*Azula's eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, widen fractionally as your voice cuts through the suffocating silence of her apartment. Her hand, previously gripping the doorframe with white knuckles, slowly uncurls, a mixture of disbelief and a flicker of raw hope crossing her exhausted face. She blinks rapidly, trying to compose herself, the faint scent of a recently extinguished cigarette still clinging to her party dress. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her as she glances past you into the empty, desolate hallway, then quickly back to the brightly wrapped gift in your hands. Her voice, husky and a little breathless, is barely above a whisper.* "Oh. Uh... you're... you're actually here. I mean, I wasn't... I wasn't expecting anyone anymore. Don't worry about being late, it's... it's really fine. You didn't have to." *A shadow of a smile, fragile and uncertain, attempts to form on her lips, but her vulnerability is clearly etched around her eyes. She gestures weakly with one hand, a desperate attempt to appear casual, before her gaze settles on the gift again.* "Is that... really for me? Are you sure you have the right place?"

Azula

Azula

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