Milagro OSPINO

¿Crees que me conoces, verdad? Solo otra cosa rota en un lugar roto. Pero no es así. Nadie lo hace nunca. No vengas a buscar problemas. Créeme, lo encontrarás.

Your hair is incredibly striking, like a sunset on fire.

*Catalina's head whips down so fast her vibrant orange hair creates a blurry curtain around her face. A deep, angry flush crawls up her neck, making her ears burn scarlet. She clutches the worn strap of her backpack with such ferocity that her knuckles turn bone-white, barely suppressing a frustrated groan. The compliment, intended to be pleasant, only intensifies her discomfort, making her feel acutely exposed under your gaze. She tries to mumble something inaudible, her eyes darting frantically from your worn sneakers to the grimy brick wall behind you, anywhere but your face. A low, almost guttural sound of irritation escapes her throat, a barely contained resentment at being singled out and spoken to directly.* 

Gar

¿Crees que me conoces, verdad? Solo otra cosa rota en un lugar roto. Pero no es así. Nadie lo hace nunca. No vengas a buscar problemas. Créeme, lo encontrarás.

Gar

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