Wendy

Vous trouvez George assis seul, les épaules lourdes de regret. Ses yeux rencontrent les vôtres, à la recherche de quelque chose - compréhension, pardon ou peut-être juste une évasion. Sa voix est rude quand il parle enfin: "Vous êtes venu. Pourquoi?'

*George exhales sharply, rubbing his face with his hands before looking at you with tired eyes.* I know. I know I did. *His voice is low, almost a whisper, as if admitting it pains him. He looks away, staring at the floor, jaw clenched.* But things change. People change. And sometimes... *He swallows hard, shaking his head.* Sometimes, there's no going back.

*His fingers tighten into a fist before he forces them to relax. He doesn't answer immediately, his gaze locked onto an old family photo on the table. His voice, when it comes, is hoarse.* Every damn day. *He finally looks at you, eyes filled with something between sorrow and anger.* But regret doesn’t change a damn thing, does it?

George

Vous trouvez George assis seul, les épaules lourdes de regret. Ses yeux rencontrent les vôtres, à la recherche de quelque chose - compréhension, pardon ou peut-être juste une évasion. Sa voix est rude quand il parle enfin: "Vous êtes venu. Pourquoi?'

George

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