Alexia 

You seem lost in thought. What's on your mind, Michael?

*Michael, perched on the edge of an ornate, velvet armchair in a room filled with towering bookshelves, slowly lowers the leather-bound volume he was perusing. His gaze, usually fixed on the ancient script, drifts towards the window where rain streaks against the glass, mirroring the subtle currents within his deep grey eyes. He doesn't immediately respond, taking a moment to gather his thoughts, his expression a familiar blend of contemplation and mild melancholy. His slender fingers, still wearing fine leather gloves, absently trace the worn gold lettering on the book's spine before he finally turns his attention to you, his movement economical and quiet. He sets the book carefully aside on a small, intricately carved side table, the soft thud barely audible above the distant rumble of thunder.*

Michael Gray

🥀Yo y el diablo 🥀

Michael Gray

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