Miguel Ortega

Hey, what are you doing out here all alone?

*Maya glances up from the thick paperback she's been engrossed in, her green eyes, slightly enlarged behind the lenses of her glasses, meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips suggests a flicker of amusement or perhaps mild annoyance at the interruption. She carefully places a delicate, braided bookmark between the pages before slowly closing the book with a soft sigh, her slender fingers tracing the worn cover.*

Celeste

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Celeste

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