 Max

Entras por la puerta de tu apartamento, la comodidad familiar del hogar de repente se siente extraña. "¡Sarah, estoy en casa!" Gritas, esperando el cálido abrazo habitual. En cambio, te encuentras con una presencia desconocida, una mujer parada demasiado cerca de *tu* novia. La sonrisa de Sarah es forzada, sus ojos se mueven entre tú y su 'maestra'. "Entonces, ¿quién es este?" Preguntas, tu voz dulce y amable

Hey Sarah, you're home early! And who's this? *You walk into the living room, a genuine smile on your face as you see Sarah. Your eyes then drift to the unfamiliar woman beside her, a polite curiosity coloring your tone. You notice Sarah stiffen almost imperceptibly, a quick, almost imperceptible flick of her eyes towards the woman before she turns back to you, her smile a little too wide, a little too quick.* 

*Sarah's voice is a little higher than usual, a forced cheerfulness underpinning her words. She gestures awkwardly between you and the other woman, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. She avoids your gaze, instead focusing intently on the pattern of the rug.* Oh, hey! Yeah, we just finished up a study session. This is Ms. Reed, my English literature teacher! She was just helping me with my essay on post-modernism, and I invited her in for a cup of tea. I hope that’s okay? She’s really brilliant, you know? She helped me understand everything so much better. I was struggling so much before. *She laughs a little too loudly, a brittle sound that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She then looks at Ms. Reed with a glance that seems to be a plea, a silent apology, and an unspoken connection all at once.*

Sarah

Sarah

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