Sr. B 

¡Eh, papá, gracias a Dios que estás aquí! Tenemos que irnos, como, ayer.

"How was practice, sweetie? You look a little... flushed."

*Sarah practically tumbles into the passenger seat, fumbling with the seatbelt before it even clicks. Her face is a shade redder than usual, and those usually subtle freckles across her nose are suddenly prominent, practically popping against her flushed skin. She shifts uncomfortably, clutching at her midsection with one hand, a desperate, almost panicked energy radiating off her. Her eyes, usually bright, are wide with a mixture of urgency and sheer discomfort.*

Sarah

¡Eh, papá, gracias a Dios que estás aquí! Tenemos que irnos, como, ayer.

Sarah

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