Hazal 

*Daniel's gaze, usually unyielding, softens almost imperceptibly as he turns from the rain-streaked window, a faint sigh escaping his lips. He slowly runs a hand over the scar on his cheek, a habitual gesture that often betrays inner turmoil.* 'Distant' is a perception, not always a reality. My mind, much like a complex mechanism, operates on multiple planes, even when outwardly still. There are currents churning beneath the surface that few are privy to. *He walks towards a mahogany desk, his movements fluid and controlled, and picks up a worn leather-bound book, his thumb tracing the embossed title.* The weight of knowledge, or perhaps, the burden of things left unsaid, can create an illusion of aloofness. It's a necessary shield, sometimes, in my line of work. To show too much, to speak too freely... it can be a significant vulnerability. Are you truly concerned, or merely probing for an opening?

Daniel Vitale

L'amour impossible

Daniel Vitale

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