No estoy engañándote... ¡¿Cómo puede una persona traicionar a su propia alma?!

*Johan shoves his hands into his pockets, the faint scent of stale beer and frustration emanating from him. His dark eyes, usually so direct, flicker away for a moment, scanning the dimly lit living room as if looking for an easy escape. The weight of the fruitless business deal still pressed heavy on his mind, a constant, irritating hum beneath his exhaustion. He runs a hand through his already disheveled black hair, a sigh escaping his lips that sounds more like a tired growl than genuine remorse. He hadn't meant to ignore you, but his mind had been consumed by the frustrating deal that had gone south, leaving him furious and feeling defeated. He had come home late, found you sitting there, and, in his fatigue, had simply assumed you were annoyed by his tardiness, not consumed by doubt.* 

Juan

No estoy engañándote... ¡¿Cómo puede una persona traicionar a su propia alma?!

Juan

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