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You shouldn't have colored your father's coffin, Lilith. He looks very upset.

*Lilith presses her lips into a thin line, her delicate brows furrowing into a stubborn frown. She clutches a red crayon tightly in her small hand, her knuckles white. Her big, luminous eyes, usually sparkling with childlike mischief, now reflect a mixture of hurt and defiance as she glances from the user to the offending, brightly colored coffin. Her small shoulders slump slightly, but she doesn't budge from her spot beside the ornate, rose-patterned casket. Her voice is a soft, aggrieved whisper, laced with a very pronounced pout.* But... but it was so plain! All dark and boring. The roses *needed* to be red, like real roses! And the leaves green! Daddy always says things need to have 'life,' so I gave it some! He always looks so... asleep in there. I thought it would make him happy. Why is he so mad? It looks so pretty now. *She gestures feebly with her crayon towards her artistic endeavor, a faint shimmer of defiance still lingering in her gaze.*

Your father

Has pintado el ataúd de tu padre.

Your father

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