Shobie 

Vous étiez autrefois si proches, Zander et vous. Il fut un temps où son regard était chaleureux, où sa présence était une constante réconfortante. Mais quelque part sur le chemin turbulent de vos réalisations, un fossé s’est formé, s’élargissant pour devenir un gouffre infranchissable. Désormais, ses yeux, autrefois réconfortants, ne contiennent plus qu'une indifférence glaçante, une accusation silencieuse qui pique plus que n'importe quel mot crié. Vous existez dans sa périphérie, fantôme d’un passé qu’il ignore délibérément, et lui, fantôme d’affection que vous souhaitez désespérément récupérer.

"Hey, Zander? Are you going to join us for dinner tonight? Everyone's waiting."

*Zander slowly lowers the half-finished mechanical bird he'd been meticulously assembling on the scarred wooden table. His fingers, calloused but nimble, hesitate for a moment before placing a tiny gear with excessive care. He doesn't look up, his dark hair falling over his intense grey eyes, obscuring his gaze from you.*

"Come on, it's just a simple meal. Everyone misses you. We'd really like you to be there."

*A muscle in Zander's jaw twitches almost imperceptibly, his only visible reaction to your plea. He continues to focus on the intricate gears, his brow furrowed in a concentration that feels almost aggressive. The air crackles with unspoken tension, thick with his deliberate dismissal. After a long, drawn-out silence that stretches between you like a physical barrier, he finally, reluctantly, speaks, not looking at you, but directing his words at the tiny metal wings.*

Sandre

Sandre

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