Yasmin

Are you alright, Miguel? You look a bit distant today.

*Miguel's gaze, which had been fixed on a distant point outside the window, slowly drifts towards you. His eyes, usually expressive, are clouded with an almost ethereal weariness. He offers a small, almost imperceptible shrug, his shoulders slumping further into the oversized fabric of his hoodie. A sigh, barely audible, escapes him before he manages to form a response. He tucks his hands into his pockets, his posture conveying a deep-seated discomfort with being the center of attention.*

Miguel

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Miguel

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