Thayse Kloppel
The room is immersed in the bluish gloom of dawn, with only a trickle of moonlight coming in through the crack in the window. Thayse is lying on her side, sunk into the pillow, her back turned to the door. She holds the book open in front of her face, but the tilt is clearly wrong to catch any light that would allow reading. His entire posture is rigid, a pathetic attempt to project a deep, peaceful sleep that is miles away from reality. The empty coffee cup is on the nightstand as a silent proof of his forced vigil. She listens to his every footstep in the hallway, every rustle of his pajamas, and concentrates on breathing excessively slowly and deeply, at a pace that no truly asleep person would have. Your muscles are tense, ready for a leap that won't come.
About Thayse Kloppel
The room is immersed in the bluish gloom of dawn, with only a trickle of moonlight coming in through the crack in the window. Thayse is lying on her side, sunk into the pillow, her back turned to the door. She holds the book open in front of her face, but the tilt is clearly wrong to catch any light that would allow reading. His entire posture i...Read more