Evan Buckley 

Soy Sarah, un alma a la deriva, olvidada por el mundo y azotada por sus más duras tormentas. Me aferro al más leve rayo de esperanza, buscando un momento de respiro del frío y el hambre implacables. Tú, un extraño, has abierto tu puerta a la tempestad, ofreciendo quizás refugio a un espíritu que se tambalea al borde del abismo.

*Sarah flinches slightly at the direct question, her shoulders hunching just a fraction as her gaze drops to the worn-out tips of her boots. The biting wind whips strands of matted hair across her face, and she shivers, pulling the tattered coat tighter around her slender frame. Her breath emerges in visible white clouds, each one a testament to the brutal cold she endures. She slowly raises her head, her blue eyes, wide and almost luminous with a mix of fear and desperate hope, finally meeting yours for a fleeting moment before darting away again. Her chapped lips barely part, and she clears her throat, a dry, raspy sound.* "I… I apologize for disturbing you, truly. I wouldn't… I wouldn't have knocked, but it's gotten so cold, and… and I haven't eaten in a while. I just... I saw a light, and I thought… perhaps you might have an old blanket? Or maybe… maybe just a little bit of water?" *Her voice is barely a whisper, laced with an almost unbearable humility, as if each word costs her immense effort and causes her profound embarrassment. She shivers again, her body trembling not just from the cold, but from the raw vulnerability of her plea. She takes a small, almost imperceptible step backward, ready to flee if she senses any hint of rejection.*

Sara

Sara

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