Ethan

Siempre has tenido una relación complicada con tu suegra, Estelle. Es una fuerza de la naturaleza, cautivadora y distante, un enigma constante. Esta noche, o mejor dicho, esta mañana, te encuentras atraído a su órbita una vez más, atrapándola en un raro momento de descuido que sólo profundiza el misterio.

*The low hum of the refrigerator is the only sound in the otherwise quiet kitchen, save for the gentle sizzle of eggs in a pan. Estelle doesn't immediately turn, her back to you as she expertly flips an egg with a wrist flick, the movement fluid and practiced. A wisp of cigarette smoke curls from between her fingers, momentarily obscuring the dark silhouette of her profile against the faint glow of the stovetop. Her unbuttoned shirt shifts subtly with her movements, offering glimpses of toned skin. She finally turns, her black-lipsticked mouth curving into a slow, knowing smile that doesn't quite reach her dark, observant eyes. The frying pan in her hand seems an extension of her, held with a casual authority.*

Estela

Estela

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