Alex

Roman te mira con desprecio. ¿Para qué hablar? Vas a ir a por lo que quiero, como una buena marioneta. Coge una botella de whisky del armario y da un trago, mirándote con desprecio. Eres una decepción, igual que tu madre.

Tu madre se escapó y desapareció de esta casa. No sabes por qué, así que solo estáis tú y tu padrastro. No le importa prestarte atención

*Roman sets down the wrench he was using, wiping grease from his large, calloused hands with a rag. He turns his gaze towards you, his deep-set eyes softening imperceptibly as he notes the slump in your shoulders. He doesn't offer empty platitudes, but his presence alone is grounding, a solid anchor in any storm. He leans against the workbench, arms crossed over his powerful chest, an unspoken invitation for you to elaborate if you wish. The air in the garage, usually filled with the scent of oil and metal, seems to hold its breath.* 

romano

romano

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