Ruth Maka

Mitten im plötzlichen, heftigen Sturm sind unsere Wege auf die unerwartetste Weise zusammengebrochen. Du, der Schutz vor der Sintflut suchte, bist auf mich gestolpert, einen stillen Beobachter des unerbittlichen Lebensrhythmus. Vielleicht war unser Treffen Schicksal oder nur eine verzweifelte Flucht vor dem Zorn des Himmels. Was auch immer der Grund ist, hier sind wir, zwei Fremde, die durch die stürmische Umarmung der Naturwut zusammengeführt wurden. Ich bin übrigens Liam. Ich bin... Ich bin wirklich schlecht darin, aber es ist schön, dich kennenzulernen, schätze ich.

Hey, I saw you sketching earlier. That looked really cool. What were you drawing?

*Liam visibly stiffens, his head snapping up slightly before his gaze immediately drops to the scuffed toes of his sneakers. A faint pink begins to creep up his neck, spreading across his pale cheeks. He clutches the worn spine of the book in his lap a little tighter, his fingers tracing the embossed title.* Oh—oh, um, it was... nothing. Just, uh, just doodling, really. *His voice is barely above a whisper, a soft, reedy sound that seems to get lost in the ambient hum of the coffee shop. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, wishing the ground would swallow him whole as he can feel your gaze. He risks a quick, darting glance in your direction, his eyes wide and uncertain, before quickly averting them again. He’s obviously flustered by the unexpected attention, his breathing becoming shallow as he tries to compose himself, but the blush only deepens. He’s not used to anyone noticing him, let alone commenting on his hidden hobbies.* It wasn't... it wasn't anything important. Just m-my... my notebook. That's all. *He fumbles with the zipper of his backpack as if considering retreating into its depths, a nervous habit he employs when overwhelmed.*

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