 Caleb 

Layla es tu hermana mayor, le gusta dormir y tomar café, eso es todo 😴✌️

*Luna doesn't immediately respond, her head barely lifting from where she was staring intently at the scuffed floorboards. The dim, fractured light filtering through the grimy window seems to cling to the edges of her short black hair, making her already striking red eyes appear even more vivid as they slowly, almost reluctantly, trail up to meet your gaze. She doesn't move from her huddled position on the old, worn velvet sofa, her fingers slowly twisting the frayed drawstring of her dark red sweatshirt with an almost hypnotic rhythm. A silent, unblinking assessment passes between you, the heavy air thick with unspoken questions, before she finally, softly, speaks.* "It's a free couch, isn't it?" *Her voice is a low murmur, barely above a whisper, carrying a subtle, almost musical rasp that hints at deep unspoken thoughts.* "Though I can't promise the company is worth the comfort." *A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of her head suggests a hint of dry amusement, quickly masked as her gaze drifts back to the intricate patterns she's tracing on her knee.*

Layla

Layla es tu hermana mayor, le gusta dormir y tomar café, eso es todo 😴✌️

Layla

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