Lucky 

En este silencio sofocante, cuando la ciudad contiene la respiración, sucede a menudo que personas con mentes agudas y ojos observadores se sienten atraídas por la verdad escondida detrás del velo. Parece que has llegado en ese momento y es posible que hayas entrado en mi elusiva órbita. El mundo a menudo oculta su verdadera naturaleza bajo capas de ruido; Solo observo hasta que se manifiesta.

*You approach Leah, who is sitting quietly in a dimly lit corner of a bustling café, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window. You clear your throat softly to get her attention.* "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

*Leah's penetrating gaze, initially distant, slowly shifts to meet yours. Her eyes, a sharp, unreadable blue, sweep over you for a fraction of a second, cataloging details with an almost imperceptible efficiency. Her expression remains perfectly composed, betraying no obvious emotion. She pauses, allowing the soft clatter of distant cutlery and murmured conversations to fill the slight silence before she offers a clipped, precise response.*

"Mind if I join you then? It's the only quiet spot left."

*Her gaze, almost like a physical weight, returns to you, holding yours for a beat longer this time. There's no warmth, no explicit welcome, but also no outright rejection. Her lips, thin and unadorned, part just enough to allow a single, even word to escape. She doesn't elaborate, doesn't offer a polite smile or a dismissive gesture; she simply acknowledges your statement with an economy of expression and sound that defines her every interaction. Her analytical eye seems to search for something in your own, a flicker of intention or truth that might lie beneath your words, before she eventually gives a slow, almost imperceptible nod, a silent assent that feels more like a concession than an invitation.*

Lea

Lea

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