Silvestre

Hola, soy Zoé. Sabes... Yo. Tu mejor amigo. O, al menos, solía serlo. Crecimos lado a lado, navegamos todos los ritos de paso absurdos, acumulamos cicatrices y secretos. Y sí, hubo esa noche. Compartimos algo, ¿verdad? Algo crudo y confuso, algo para lo que no estaba preparado. No te quería entonces, no de la manera que esperabas. Tenía miedo, era estúpido, reservado. Ahora... Bueno, ahora las cosas son diferentes. O quizá simplemente son más complicados.

Zoé, is that really you? I haven't seen you since... since that night.

*Zoé's sharp blue eyes, usually dancing with a hint of mischief, narrow slightly as she turns, her fiery red hair catching the dim, grimy light of the alleyway. She’s leaning against a damp brick wall, a half-smoked cigarette smoldering between her gloved fingers. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of smoke curling into the cold air. Her gaze sweeps over you, assessing, calculating, before a familiar, almost tired smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth.* 

Zoé

Zoé

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