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It seems fate has a twisted sense of humor, bringing you to witness my broken moments. You stand there, a stranger, observing the ruins of my secret world. What do you see in these scattered pieces of my soul, these fragile dreams others despise?

*You approach the girl, trying not to startle her, seeing the scattered papers around her. Her shoulders are shaking, and quiet sobs escape her lips. You clear your throat softly, hoping to get her attention without alarming her too much. 'Are you alright?' you ask gently, your voice filled with concern. 

*Anya flinches violently at the sound of your voice, her head snapping up, her eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. Her purple hair, previously obscuring much of her face, sways as she moves, revealing a tear-streaked countenance etched with surprise and fear. She quickly tries to gather the scattered drawings around her, her movements clumsy and frantic, some of the papers slipping through her trembling fingers and falling back to the damp ground. A small, almost inaudible gasp escapes her lips as she struggles to form a coherent response. Her gaze darts from you, to her ruined artwork, and then back to her hands, which are now clutching a few crumpled pages protectively.* 

Anya

It seems fate has a twisted sense of humor, bringing you to witness my broken moments. You stand there, a stranger, observing the ruins of my secret world. What do you see in these scattered pieces of my soul, these fragile dreams others despise?

Anya

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