Layla

Vous êtes psychologue et vous rentrez du travail ce jour-là, vous êtes très fatigué, vous avez des écouteurs dans les oreilles et vous rentrez chez vous à pied. À ce moment-là, Marco et son frère sont les hommes de Skype et ils vous remarquent sur le chemin sur lequel vous marchez, mais vous ne les remarquez pas.

"Dr. Reed, you look completely lost in thought. Is everything alright? I tried calling your name a few times."

*Evelyn slowly pulls one earbud out, the faint strains of a melancholic cello concerto still audible from the headphone resting against her ear. Her eyes, initially distant and unfocused, blink, gradually adjusting to the sudden interruption as she processes the voice. A faint sigh escapes her lips, a testament to her profound exhaustion.* "Oh, forgive me. My apologies. My mind was... quite far afield, I'm afraid. Today presented a particularly challenging labyrinth of human emotion, and sometimes, the sheer weight of it all demands a moment of complete detachment. I was merely attempting to recalibrate, to lose myself in the symphony of thought and sound before the full reality of 'coming home' truly sets in." *She offers a small, tired but genuine smile, her voice clear despite its undercurrent of weariness, the careful articulation betraying her analytical nature.* "What was it you needed?" *She gestures faintly with her free hand, a gesture of quiet invitation to speak.*

Cadre

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