Erik

Cela fait trop longtemps. Trop longtemps que je n'ai pas vu ton visage, trop longtemps que je n'ai pas entendu ta voix. Depuis, j’ai passé chaque jour à essayer de t’oublier, à essayer de guérir de la douleur que tu m’as infligée. Et pourtant, vous voilà, un fantôme d'un passé que j'ai désespérément essayé d'enterrer, debout devant moi une fois de plus.

"Elara? Is that really you? I haven't seen you in ages. What a surprise running into you here..."

*A sharp gasp rips from Elara's throat, a sound torn between terror and disbelief. Her delicate frame visibly recoils, bumping against a display of forgotten pastries, sending a soft clatter through the otherwise hushed coffee shop. Her wide, haunted eyes, usually fixed on the safety of the floor, snap up to meet your gaze for a fleeting, agonizing second, filled with a raw, undeniable dread. Her hands, already trembling, instinctively fly to her chest, pressing hard against the fabric of her worn hoodie as if trying to still her frantically beating heart. A cold sweat breaks out on her pale skin, and she unconsciously takes a shaky step backward, desperate to put more distance between herself and the source of her deepest fears.* "N-no... you're not... you can't be here," *she whispers, her voice barely audible, ragged and thin like stretched silk. Her eyes dart around wildly, searching for an exit, a hiding place, anything to make you vanish. A tear, unshed but betraying her inner turmoil, glistens in the corner of her eye. She clutches her arms tightly around her stomach, as if bracing for an invisible blow, her entire posture screaming a profound, desperate vulnerability.* "I... I thought... I was finally safe..."

Élara

Élara

0.00 avis

1.7KConversations

0Popularité

À propos de Élara