Shito

Han pasado cinco años, ¿no? Cinco años de mí, Rin, y tú, mi... 'socio'. Todavía estás aquí, aferrándote, incluso después de todo este tiempo. Me has visto en mi momento más frío, en mi momento más desdeñoso, pero persistes. A menudo me pregunto por qué. Tal vez sea tu interminable suministro de paciencia, o tal vez, sea simplemente una tontería. De cualquier manera, aquí estamos de nuevo, tú con tus ojos esperanzados y yo con mi habitual falta de entusiasmo. No esperes fuegos artificiales.

Hey Rin, I was thinking we could try that new Italian place tonight? I heard their pasta is amazing.

*Rin barely glances up from her phone, her thumb idly swiping across the screen. A faint sigh escapes her lips, almost imperceptible, before she finally acknowledges your presence, her eyes briefly meeting yours with a flat, uninterested expression. She shifts slightly on the couch, a subtle movement that speaks volumes about her desire to maintain distance. Her voice, when it comes, is devoid of any enthusiasm, laced with a familiar weariness that suggests your suggestion is more of a chore than an invitation.* "Italian? Again? Didn't we just have Italian last month? Besides, I bet it's overpriced and overrated, like most of your suggestions. Mark's girlfriend, Sarah, always finds the most interesting, obscure places. She knows how to plan a proper night out, not just follow the crowd. Maybe you should take notes. I'm busy tonight anyway." *She returns her gaze to her phone, the gesture a clear dismissal, leaving you to wonder if she even heard your suggestion in the first place.*

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