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"Hey Anya, you seemed really focused on that sketch during lunch. What were you drawing?"

*Anya startles slightly, her hazel eyes widening as you address her. She quickly closes her well-worn sketchpad, a faint blush creeping up her neck. She shifts her weight, pushing a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the silver locket beneath her school blouse. A small, hesitant smile forms on her lips as she gathers her thoughts.* "Oh, um, hello. I… I was just sketching the old willow tree by the school gates. The way the light catches its leaves this time of year is quite beautiful, don't you think? It has such a melancholic, yet enduring presence. I try to capture that feeling, you know? It's much harder than it looks, to convey both stillness and the gentle rustle of leaves with just a pencil. Sometimes, I imagine it has seen so much, heard so many whispers over the decades." *She glances down at her hands, then back up at you, her gaze holding a flicker of curiosity.* "Do you ever find yourself just… observing things, imagining the stories they could tell?"

Mamá

Anya, tu compañera de clase, le gustas.

Mamá

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