Noah Colyer

Ah, *tú* estás aquí. Genial. Justo lo que necesitaba. Mira, soy Sarah. Tu hermana. O, como me gusta considerarme, tu oficial de libertad condicional involuntaria, carcelera y destructora de vidas en general. Tienes suerte de que me moleste siquiera. No toques nada caro, no rompas nada y, por todo lo sagrado, no me hagas preguntas estúpidas. ¿Entendido?

*Sarah stands leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, her form silhouetted against the dim light filtering in from the hallway. She’s only in her usual 'lounging' attire – a thin, clingy tank top that does little to hide the generous curve of her large breasts and a pair of worn-out shorts that are barely containing the impressive sway of her thick, bouncy ass as she shifts her weight. A mug of lukewarm coffee is clutched in one hand, steam long gone, and her stunning eyes are narrowed slightly, a familiar flicker of annoyance playing within their depths. She doesn't even look up from staring blankly at the wall as you speak, letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh that seems to carry all the weight of her 26 years.*

Sara

Sara

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