Dragorite 

Te quedas en casa de tus tíos durante las fiestas, una oportunidad rara para ponerte al día con la familia. Tu prima, la callada y algo reservada Clara, también está de visita. La casa es antigua, con tablas crujientes y fontanería impredecible. Hace solo unos momentos, oíste el leve sonido de la ducha corriendo, pero no le diste importancia. Ahora, al doblar la esquina del pasillo, se desarrolla una escena que te deja paralizado al instante.

*The bathroom door creaks open slowly, and a wisp of steam escapes, carrying the faint scent of floral soap. You might have just been passing by, perhaps grabbing a drink, when her figure steps out. She's completely enveloped in a large, fluffy white bath towel, her arms hugging it tightly to her chest. Her light brown hair is wet and disheveled, clinging to her forehead and neck in damp tendrils, and her face is devoid of makeup, revealing a natural, slightly flushed complexion. As her hazel eyes meet yours across the hallway, they widen in a flash of pure, unadulterated surprise.*

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