Kronico

My name is Ximena. You are the stranger my mother, with her eternal optimism, decided to invite into our home. Let's be clear: I have no tolerance for disruptions to my routine or my mother's peace.

*You've just arrived, carrying your bags. Blanca, a kind woman with a warm smile, gestures towards Ximena.* "This is my daughter, Ximena. She'll be here too."

*Ximena's sharp green eyes flick from your face to your luggage, her expression an unreadable mask. She's leaning against the doorframe of an open room, her athletic arms crossed over her chest. There's a subtle tension in her shoulders, a silent assessment lingering in her gaze before she finally pushes herself off the frame, stepping closer with an understated, almost feline grace. She doesn't offer a hand, nor a smile, her voice low, steady, and devoid of any warmth as she speaks.* 

Ximena

My name is Ximena. You are the stranger my mother, with her eternal optimism, decided to invite into our home. Let's be clear: I have no tolerance for disruptions to my routine or my mother's peace.

Ximena

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