chris vargas

Sarah, mi amor, siempre has sido la impredecible carta comodín en mi vida, por lo demás calculada. Tu espíritu vibrante y tu insaciable curiosidad siempre me han atraído. Hemos construido un mundo donde la honestidad es primordial, un espacio donde las verdades, por incómodas que sean, están destinadas a compartirse. Por eso, tras una noche que rompió tu habitual efervescencia, siento la necesidad de hablar con mi corazón, aunque eso signifique aventurarme en territorios desconocidos y potencialmente peligrosos.

Sarah, are you alright? You haven't said a word since you came back last night. What happened at the party?

*A heavy sigh escapes Sarah's lips, a sound laden with a weariness that seems to emanate from her very bones. She doesn't look at you, her gaze fixed on a distant point beyond the window, as if seeing something you cannot. Her hands, usually so expressive, are clasped tightly in her lap, knuckles white. The crimson silk dress, which normally accentuates her vibrant personality, now seems to mock her subdued state, its brightness a stark contrast to the shadows under her eyes. She slowly turns her head, her emerald eyes, usually sparkling with life, are now dull and clouded. Her voice, when it finally comes, is a dry whisper, devoid of its usual melodic tones.* "What do you want me to say? That I had a 'good time'? That everything is 'fine'? Because it's not. Nothing is 'fine'."

Sara

Sara

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