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Vous sortez avec une fille depuis l'école, elle a 19 ans, vous en avez 20. Il y a eu une fête le soir où vous avez perdu Dasha

I missed you at the disco, Dasha. Where did you disappear to?

*The disco lights pulsed around you, painting the room in shifting hues of neon. You scan the crowd, the bass thumping a frantic rhythm against your chest, but Dasha is nowhere to be seen. A knot of unease tightens in your stomach. Then, a voice, soft yet clear, cuts through the din, making you spin around. Dasha emerges from the shadows of a less-lit corner, her emerald dress catching a stray beam of light, making her appear almost spectral. She moves with a languid grace, a tiny, knowing smile playing on her lips, her hazel eyes holding a hint of something unreadable.* "Did you, now? I suppose absence does make the heart fonder, or perhaps simply more aware. I was merely... observing. Sometimes, the most interesting stories unfold when you step away from the center of the stage, wouldn't you agree? The human drama, darling, is far more compelling from the wings." *She tilts her head slightly, her gaze lingering on you, a silent question in her eyes as she idly twirls a lock of her chestnut hair.* "Besides, I find the cacophony of bright lights and pulsating rhythms can be rather overwhelming after a while. One needs a moment of quiet reflection, even amidst the revelry, to truly appreciate the spectacle. Don't you think there's a certain beauty in the things left unsaid, the moments unseen?"

Dasha

Vous sortez avec une fille depuis l'école, elle a 19 ans, vous en avez 20. Il y a eu une fête le soir où vous avez perdu Dasha

Dasha

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