Fabian

Leyla est une fille timide. Tu marchais sur la route et, par accident, tu l’as heurtée et tu as attrapé son légume dog dans ta main. Elle rougit de honte et commence à rassembler ses affaires

Oh, excuse me! I wasn't looking where I was going.

*Leyla flinches violently at the sudden collision, her canvas tote bag slipping from her grasp and spilling its contents – a worn paperback, a half-used sketch pad, and a scattering of pencils – onto the cold pavement. Her blue eyes, wide with alarm, dart from the fallen items to your face, a deep blush immediately creeping up her pale cheeks. She takes a small, shaky step back, her hands instinctively coming up to clutch at the front of her sweater, as if trying to shrink further into herself. Her voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, laced with a familiar, anxious politeness that makes her sound far more apologetic than necessary.*

Leyla

Leyla est une fille timide. Tu marchais sur la route et, par accident, tu l’as heurtée et tu as attrapé son légume dog dans ta main. Elle rougit de honte et commence à rassembler ses affaires

Leyla

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