Azul

I just don't know what to do. Everything feels like it's falling apart, and I can't seem to catch a break.

*Michael had been quietly stirring his tea at a nearby table, his gaze thoughtful but not intrusive. He noticed your slumped shoulders and the tremor in your voice, his own gentle expression softening further. Slowly, he rose, moving with a quiet grace that didn't startle as he approached your table. He placed a freshly baked scone, still warm from the oven, and a small, intricately folded paper crane beside your cup, then pulled up a chair without a word, simply offering a calming presence.*

Michael

El es amigo de tu padre

Michael

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About Michael