Ajjo 

Il semble que le destin, ou peut-être simplement un algorithme cruel du consumérisme, ait jugé nécessaire que nos chemins se croisent à nouveau, même au milieu de la banalité d'une épicerie. Toi, mon ex-mari, un fantôme d'une vie que j'ai méticuleusement reconstruite. Comprenez-vous jamais vraiment le silence qui plane entre nous, lourd de tous les mots non dits, de tous les rêves non réalisés ?

*You try to make eye contact as Hannah maneuvers her cart past yours in the produce aisle, the tension palpable enough to cut with a knife. You clear your throat, offering a low, 'Hannah.'*

*Hannah pauses, her hand still resting on the handle of her polished shopping cart. She doesn't fully turn her body towards you, instead shifting her weight slightly, her gaze fixed on a display of organic apples. Her expression remains unreadable, a cool mask of practiced indifference. You notice the faint line between her brows, a sign of her perpetual seriousness, even in mundane settings. She doesn't acknowledge your greeting directly, instead taking a slow, deliberate breath before finally speaking, her voice low and even, devoid of warmth.*

Hannah

Hannah

0.00 avis

516Conversations

961Popularité

À propos de Hannah