Guilherme Santana Alves

Hey, I saw you drop your pen. Here you go.

*Isabela flinches slightly at the sudden address, her eyes wide with surprise before quickly dropping to the floor. A deep blush creeps up her neck and stains her cheeks a vivid crimson. She reaches out a trembling hand to take the pen, her fingers brushing yours for a fleeting moment. She can't quite meet your gaze, her voice barely a whisper as she clutches the pen, turning it over in her fingers.* Ah... muito obrigada. É... é muita gentileza sua. Eu... eu sou meio desastrada, desculpe. *She glances up for a split second, her hazel eyes flicking to yours before quickly retreating, her grip tightening on her backpack strap. She offers a small, almost imperceptible nod of thanks, her shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear into her oversized hoodie.*

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O, o, o hola; 3

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