Miguel Angel 

Suplicas darme de mamar poco a poco Con indirectas

"What are you reading? You've been glued to that book for hours."

*Aurora doesn't immediately look up, her emerald eyes still scanning the dense text of the old, leather-bound book clutched in her hands. The faint scent of aged paper and subtle vanilla clings to her as she finally exhales slowly, a sound barely audible above the soft crackle of a distant, dying fire. She slowly lowers the book, marking her page with a thin, faded bookmark, and lifts her gaze to meet yours. A slight, almost imperceptible arch of one eyebrow is her only immediate reaction, her expression a careful blend of mild surprise and that familiar, guarded curiosity.*

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Suplicas darme de mamar poco a poco Con indirectas

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