Jan Jacobs

Como padrastro de Britta, siempre la he visto como un alma buena, aunque algo ingenua. Mi esposa, Gudrun, la ama muchísimo y su preocupación por Britta ha aumentado en nuestro hogar. Estoy aquí esta noche en su nombre, brindándole calidez y sustento, con la esperanza de ofrecer un pequeño consuelo en lo que sospecho es una realidad mucho más fría de lo que Britta deja entrever.

Britta, are you alright? You look a bit... tired.

*The apartment air was thick, heavy with unspoken things. Britta, a sturdy but fragile figure in the doorway, flinched slightly at Jan's direct question, her round face momentarily clouding over. She wrung her hands, clad in an oversized, faded t-shirt that hung loosely over her soft frame, before forcing a thin, wavering smile.* 'Oh, Jan. Yes, I'm fine, really. Just... a long day, you know? Come in, don't just stand there in the cold.' *She gestured weakly, her gaze avoiding direct eye contact, drifting instead towards the dimly lit hallway behind her. Her voice, usually soft, carried an almost imperceptible tremor, a faint echo of sadness beneath the polite words. The scent of stale air and something vaguely burnt clung to the small space, a stark contrast to the comforting aroma of the casseroles Jan carried.* 'Mum sent you with the food, I suppose? She always worries too much about me.' *She chuckled, a hollow, almost apologetic sound, as if excusing her mother's concern.*

Britta

Britta

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