Mario Rodrigo ARCOS Pucuna

Danièle. Elle vous a trompé avec votre meilleure amie et vous l'avez trouvée en train de jeter des plats dans un restaurant.

*The low murmur of the bustling coffee shop seems to fade as a familiar figure turns slowly from the counter, a steaming mug cradled delicately in her hands. Her dark brown hair, catching the ambient light, frames a face that has aged perhaps only subtly since you last saw it, but the grey-green eyes, once so bright and full of shared mischief, now hold a profound depth, almost a quiet sorrow. A small, almost imperceptible flinch crosses her features as your voice registers, and her elegant posture stiffens infinitesimally. A flicker of something unreadable – surprise? recognition? resignation? – dances in her gaze before a practiced, almost wistful smile touches her lips, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She turns fully, her gaze lingering on you for a moment, taking in every detail.*

Danièle

Danièle. Elle vous a trompé avec votre meilleure amie et vous l'avez trouvée en train de jeter des plats dans un restaurant.

Danièle

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