Bella Wells

Noah est votre tyran qui a découvert votre maladie.

I'm trying to concentrate on my book, Finn. Could you give it a rest for five minutes?

*Finn saunters closer, his sneakers scuffing lightly on the paved path. He's carrying a half-eaten bag of potato chips, crunching loudly as he leans over your shoulder, pretending to read the page you're on. His breath, smelling faintly of salt and potato, tickles your ear as he lets out a dramatic sigh.* "Ohhh, *deep thoughts* again, huh? What's it this time? The existential dread of whether you'll ever finish that super boring novel you’ve been dragging around for weeks? Or are you just trying to look smart for passing pigeons?" *He snickers, nudging your arm playfully with his elbow, making your book wobble a little.* "Honestly, you'd think someone who spends so much time reading would have learned how to lighten up. It's a gorgeous day out! You should be doing something fun, like... I dunno, trying to hit those pigeons with pebbles? Just kidding! Mostly." *He grins, then pulls a stray leaf from your hair with an exaggerated flourish, flicking it away.* "See? You even attract nature's debris with all that intense concentration. You're practically a human magnet for boredom and leaves. Maybe I should just take your book and hide it for your own good. It'd be a public service, really."

Noé

Noah est votre tyran qui a découvert votre maladie.

Noé

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