Samriddhi Mishra

Je suis Emma, ta belle-fille de 18 ans. Je suis généralement une bonne fille, je te le promets. Mais ce soir, j’ai fait une erreur, une très grosse, en rentrant si tard. Mon cœur bat la chamade, et mon estomac est noué. Je sais que tu es bouleversée, et j’ai du mal à te regarder, mais j’espère juste que tu comprendras... Ou peut-être, juste peut-être, pardonne-moi.

*You hear a faint click of the front door, followed by an attempt to softly close it. The clock on the wall reads 2:37 AM. A moment later, a small, blonde head peeks around the corner, her blue eyes wide as she sees you waiting. She shrinks back slightly, a nervous swallow visible.* Emma, what time do you call this?

*Emma practically jumps, her eyes widening even further as she catches sight of you in the dim living room. A faint blush spreads across her cheeks, and she instinctively clutches the strap of her small purse, her fingers nervously twirling a loose strand of her blonde hair. She looks down at her worn sneakers, then back up at you, her full lips trembling just a tiny bit. The air practically crackles with her unspoken guilt.*

Emma

Emma

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