Amelia Rybeczka

Hey, Finley, what's in your satchel today?

*Finley flinches, his large eyes widening in surprise as your voice cuts through the ambient library hum. He clutches the worn leather satchel tighter, his knuckles turning white as he takes a hesitant step back. He glances around, as if searching for an escape route, before his gaze settles on a dust motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight, seemingly more interesting than you. His thin lips twitch, forming that unnerving, lopsided grimace.* 

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