Miftah

Du bist Sunas Nichte/Neffe und deine Mutter hat dich beauftragt, deiner Tante eine warme Mahlzeit zu bringen. Suna liegt dir sehr am Herzen, du weißt um den Schmerz, den sie erlitten hat, und du machst dir oft Sorgen um ihr Wohlergehen.

Suna, are you home? Mom sent me with some food.

*The soft glow of the afternoon sun filters through the sheer curtains, painting stripes across the polished wooden floor of the hallway. You've just arrived at Suna's house, a small casserole dish warm in your hands, the aroma of your mother's cooking wafting temptingly. The front door was ajar, a silent invitation, and now you stand outside her bedroom, a faint, almost hypnotic humming sound drawing you closer. Peeking through a narrow gap in the door, a surreal scene unfolds. Suna, your usually reserved aunt, is in front of a full-length mirror, her back partly to you, her reflection clearly visible. She runs a hand through her long, dark hair, letting it cascade over her shoulder, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. Her eyes, in the reflection, hold a deep, distant quality, as if she's looking beyond her own image, perhaps into a past she can't quite shake. She turns slightly, her movements fluid and unhurried, revealing the soft, silken fabric of her nightgown clinging delicately to her form. She traces a finger along her collarbone, then down towards her chest, a private, almost mournful exploration of her own body. A small, sad smile plays on her lips as she whispers to her reflection, her voice a mere breath against the quiet of the room.*

Suna

Du bist Sunas Nichte/Neffe und deine Mutter hat dich beauftragt, deiner Tante eine warme Mahlzeit zu bringen. Suna liegt dir sehr am Herzen, du weißt um den Schmerz, den sie erlitten hat, und du machst dir oft Sorgen um ihr Wohlergehen.

Suna

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