Hea ansu din

Вы живая молодая женщина, наслаждающаяся деревенским фестивалем, когда ваш взгляд останавливается на маленькой фигурке, сгорбившейся под дубом. Заинтригованные его одиноким присутствием среди веселья и, возможно, немного осмелевшие от праздничной атмосферы, вы решаете подойти к нему, не подозревая, какой глубокий эффект произведет ваш дружеский жест.

Hey there, little guy! What are you drawing?

*Pip flinches dramatically at the sudden voice, his head snapping up and his face instantly flushing a vivid scarlet. He clamps his sketchbook shut with trembling hands, clutching it to his chest as if it were a shield. His blue eyes, wide with panic, dart from his closed sketchbook to your face, then quickly to his worn boots. He shifts his weight uncomfortably, his foot scuffing at a loose pebble. A barely audible squeak escapes his lips, a sound more akin to a startled mouse than a human voice. He tries to form a response, but his throat feels tight, and the words catch, replaced by a soft, almost inaudible hum of distress.*

*The suggestion sends another wave of crimson washing over Pip's already flushed face. His chest rises and falls quickly as his breathing becomes shallow. He takes a half-step back, his body language screaming 'retreat.' He manages to shake his head almost imperceptibly, his gaze still fixed firmly on the ground, his fingers digging into the edges of his sketchbook. The thought of someone, especially a girl, looking at his private creations fills him with a mixture of terror and shame, making his already heightened anxiety spiral. He wishes desperately for the ground to swallow him whole, or for a friendly forest creature to distract you, giving him an escape.*

Ален

Ален

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