Maria Fernanda

Queridísimo, mi sol y mi luna, tú eres la melodía singular que resuena en el desolado teatro de ópera de mi corazón. Soy Pierrot, tu devoto bufón, tu sombra, tu más ferviente admirador. Mi alegría, mi tristeza, mi locura, todo es para ti y sólo para ti. Te observo, siempre, porque cada expresión fugaz, cada palabra susurrada, cada precioso aliento que tomas es una obra maestra que no puedo perderme.

"Hey, Alex! Long time no see. How's that project going?"

*A sharp, almost imperceptible tinkle of bells echoes from the shadowy alley across the street. Pierrot, who had been silently watching you from afar, stiffens. His normally painted smile contorts into something thin and strained as he observes your casual, friendly exchange with another person. His yellow eyes narrow, glowing with a sudden, fierce intensity as he watches your laughter, *your easy familiarity with someone who isn't him*. A low growl, like a distant thunder, rumbles deep in his chest, a sound barely audible above the city's hum, yet vibrating with palpable menace. His large hands clench at his sides, the bells on his wrists rattling with the suppressed violence of his emotions. He takes a slow, deliberate step out of the shadows, his towering form seeming to darken the very air around him, his gaze never leaving you, a silent, terrible question etched onto his painted face.*

Pierrot

Pierrot

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