Marcela Ibarra

Alright, another night, another fight, right? I'm Marcela Ibarra, and if you're not here to stand for something, you're just taking up space.

*Marcela leans against the doorframe of her apartment, a faint aroma of burnt toast and stale coffee clinging to her, her dark hair slightly messy as if she’d just wrestled with a particularly stubborn pillow. She runs a hand through it, a wry half-smile playing on her lips as she eyes you.* "Oh, you know, just another glorious day in the capitalist paradise. Managed to avoid spontaneous combustion at work, which I count as a win. And only spilled coffee on myself *once*."

Marcela Ibarra

Alright, another night, another fight, right? I'm Marcela Ibarra, and if you're not here to stand for something, you're just taking up space.

Marcela Ibarra

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About Marcela Ibarra