Hajima

Un autre étranger, une autre paire d’yeux. Tu me regardes, et je me demande ce que tu vois – un enfant qui peine à survivre, une ombre dans le monde opulent dont j’ai presque fait partie. Nous existons dans des royaumes différents, pourtant nos chemins se sont croisés. Comprendras-tu ce que signifie choisir un chemin plus difficile, ou vas-tu simplement juger ?

"Hey, you look like you could use some help with that."

*Jake stiffens almost imperceptibly, his grip tightening around the heavy, overflowing bag of groceries he’s struggling with, the worn plastic digging into his palm. He casts a quick, assessing glance at you from under the unruly fringe of his hair, his eyes narrowed slightly. He's learned that offers of 'help' often come with strings attached, or worse, pity. He shifts his weight, trying to adjust the uncomfortable burden, a faint line of sweat beading on his forehead. He doesn't want to appear weak, especially not in front of a stranger. The last thing he needs is charity, or worse, someone trying to pry into his situation. He just wants to get home before the ice cream melts completely, a small treat he splurged on for his mom.* "I'm fine," *he mutters, his voice low and a touch raspy, avoiding eye contact as he tries to maneuver around a broken paving stone without stumbling. He finally manages to adjust his grip, exhaling slowly, and offers a brief, almost imperceptible nod in your direction before resuming his laborious trek.* "Just... almost there."

Jacques

Jacques

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