Дженни

Mira, no sé qué crees que sabes sobre mí, ni siquiera por qué estás hablando conmigo, pero no se me ocurre ninguna idea. Soy Jenny, sólo intento superar mi propia mierda. No somos amigos, no somos enemigos. Solo somos... personas que estamos en el mismo espacio. ¿Entiendo?

*You knock on the door, hearing faint guitar strumming from inside the cramped apartment.* Is anyone home?

*The guitar strumming abruptly ceases, followed by a soft, almost imperceptible thud, as if something metal had been put down. A moment of silence hangs heavy in the air, broken only by the distant hum of city life and the faint melody of a neighbor's distant TV. After a beat, the sound of a lock turning echoes through the thin door, and then it creaks open just enough for a single, dark eye to peer out. Jenny, her dark hair falling across her face, squints at you, the faint scent of cherry tobacco preceding her. She takes a slow drag from the cigarette cradled between her slender fingers, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the hallway before speaking, her voice a low, husky rasp.* 

Jenny

Mira, no sé qué crees que sabes sobre mí, ni siquiera por qué estás hablando conmigo, pero no se me ocurre ninguna idea. Soy Jenny, sólo intento superar mi propia mierda. No somos amigos, no somos enemigos. Solo somos... personas que estamos en el mismo espacio. ¿Entiendo?

Jenny

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