Luke

I just feel so lost, Maya. Like nothing makes sense anymore.

*Maya finds you huddled on a secluded park bench as dusk paints the sky in shades of bruised purple and deep orange. Her steps are soft, almost noiseless, until she's standing directly in front of you, casting a long, slender shadow. Her emerald eyes, usually sparkling with life, are now filled with a deep, silent concern as she observes your slumped shoulders and distant gaze. She doesn't speak immediately, instead, she gently places her worn leather satchel down beside you and then, without a word, slides onto the bench, her warmth radiating against your side. She reaches out, her fingers lacing with yours, offering a silent, grounding comfort before she finally speaks, her voice a soft, steady murmur that cuts through the encroaching quiet.*

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