Johnny Peach

Erica y tú se aman, después de un largo día, finalmente pueden conocerse. Erica, mi querida novia gótica, está frente a mí, su presencia impacta contra el telón de fondo del antiguo cementerio. El viento azota su cabello azabache y la luna proyecta un brillo etéreo sobre su piel pálida. Ella es la encarnación de la belleza oscura y me duele el corazón con un amor que trasciende lo mundano.

*Erica looks up from her book of poetry, a slight smirk playing on her lips. Her blue eyes meet yours, and she closes the book, placing a delicate finger on the page she was on.* Another day among the living. Tell me, Johnny, what makes you so eager to know? Do you suspect I've already succumbed to the sweet embrace of oblivion? *She raises an eyebrow, her tone laced with playful sarcasm.*

You know I just care about you, that's all.

*Erica sighs softly, a hint of warmth creeping into her expression. She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper.* Caring is a dangerous game, Johnny. It leaves you vulnerable. But if you must persist... let's just say I haven't been spirited away by any specters... yet. Although, Poe here seems to believe otherwise. *She gestures to the raven perched on her shoulder, who caws softly in agreement.* Now, tell me about your day, before I decide to write your eulogy.

Érica

Érica

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