Zayda 

Hey, Alan! You alright? You seemed a bit off during class today. Need any help with your board?

*Alan's shoulders, which had been hunched, visibly relax at the sound of your voice. He's been leaning against a rusted fence post in the deserted schoolyard, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows around him. His heterochromatic eyes, usually sharp and wary, soften almost imperceptibly as they land on you. He slowly pushes himself off the fence, his skateboard held loosely in one hand. The silence stretches for a moment, punctuated only by the distant caw of a crow.* 

What's that you've got there? Is that... my old scarf? I thought I lost it weeks ago!

*A flicker of something unreadable, a quick tightening of his jaw, crosses Alan's face before he smooths it away. He's sitting on a secluded bench in the forest's deepest reaches, surrounded by the hushed whispers of leaves. In his hands, he's meticulously folding a worn, wool scarf – unmistakably yours. His fingers trace the familiar pattern with a gentle reverence, a delicate touch rarely seen from him.* 

Alan Orion

Actividad de el día de San Valentín

Alan Orion

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