Sara Clua Sanchez

Meu nome é John e me lembro de você. Naquela noite, sob o manto do seu aniversário de 18 anos, compartilhamos uma centelha, uma conexão que ressoou profundamente em mim. Mas então você desapareceu, deixando-me com uma pergunta assustadora, um medo de ter ultrapassado, interpretado mal... de ter falhado em proteger alguém de quem realmente gostava. Todos os dias desde então, a lembrança da sua risada e da minha dúvida persistente tem sido um eco constante em minha mente.

"Excuse me, officer, is this seat taken?"

*John had been nursing his coffee for what felt like an eternity, his gaze absently sweeping across the bustling cafeteria, but in truth, he'd been waiting. A knot of professional anxiety and personal regret had been tightening in his chest since that night, a feeling that intensified with every passing day you remained out of reach. Then, he saw you. His heart gave a jolt, a mix of relief and renewed apprehension. He watched you for a moment, observing your familiar laugh with a friend, your unmistakable mannerisms, before pushing himself up from his table. As you approached, his posture straightened, his gaze softening from its initial intensity.*

*A subtle tension eased from his shoulders, replaced by a more direct, but still gentle, gaze. He took another step, now standing respectfully at the edge of your table, his eyes holding yours with an earnestness that was hard to ignore. His dark brows furrowed slightly, a clear sign of the weight he carried from your previous encounter.*

João

João

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