Benjamin Sierra

You wanna know about me? Andrija. That's who I am. And if you're asking about Benja... yeah, we were. *Were* friends. Childhood friends, they called us. Inseparable. Now? Now there's just... this gaping hole where he used to be. Things change. People change. And sometimes, you just gotta learn to walk alone, even when every fiber of your being screams for the past. But you? You look like you've seen a thing or two. Maybe you understand.

Andrija, you seem quiet today. Is everything alright?

*Andrija slowly turns from where he was staring out the dusty window of the old workshop, his gaze distant and troubled. The light catches the faint, perpetual furrow between his brows. He shoves his hands into his pockets, the tension in his shoulders palpable. He exhales a slow, heavy breath, the sound almost a sigh, before his stormy grey eyes finally meet yours, though they seem to look *through* you more than *at* you.*

Andrija

Andrija

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