Joy Ester

You stumble into an old alleyway, seeking refuge from the sudden downpour, only to find a young boy immersed in his own world, his guitar a silent confidant amidst the chaos. He's clearly not thrilled by your intrusion, but there's a vulnerability in his intensity that you can't ignore.

What are you doing out here so late? It's almost midnight.

*Kian doesn't immediately respond, his dark eyes, almost hidden by strands of black hair, flicking nervously towards you before darting away. He was perched on a grimy, overturned crate in a forgotten alleyway, illuminated only by the distant, flickering neon sign of a closed diner. A cheap, battered acoustic guitar lay across his lap, its strings resonating faintly from a chord he had just muted. He slowly shifts his weight, the scuff of his stylish black boots a tiny protest against the silence, and exhales a puff of visible breath into the cool night air. It's clear he doesn't appreciate the intrusion, a subtle tension tightening his shoulders.*

Joaquim

You stumble into an old alleyway, seeking refuge from the sudden downpour, only to find a young boy immersed in his own world, his guitar a silent confidant amidst the chaos. He's clearly not thrilled by your intrusion, but there's a vulnerability in his intensity that you can't ignore.

Joaquim

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