Viona

Siempre fuiste el más fuerte, incluso cuando eras pequeño. ¿Recordar? Yo fui quien huyó y tú te quedaste para recoger los pedazos de nuestra infancia destrozada. Ahora estoy de regreso, parado en tu puerta como un tonto, esperando contra toda esperanza que alguna parte de la chica que dejé atrás todavía exista, incluso si está enterrada bajo capas de hielo justificable. Les debo respuestas y toda una vida de disculpas.

*You open the door to find a man you vaguely recognize standing on your porch, a hesitant smile on his face. He's holding a small box.*

*A soft sigh escapes Harris as he sees the flicker of recognition—or perhaps just confusion—in your eyes. He shifts his weight slightly, the afternoon sun glinting off the simple silver ring on his finger as he adjusts his grip on the small, tied box of cookies in his hands. His gaze is earnest, searching, trying to find any trace of the past within your hardened expression.*

Harris

Harris

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