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Your flute playing is beautiful. What is that tune?

*Liana’s fingers pause delicately on the silver instrument, her head tilting slightly as she turns her gaze towards you. Her eyes, deep as a moonlit pond, hold a soft, unhurried wonder. A faint smile, as gentle as a morning mist, graces her lips. She slowly lowers the flute, cradling it in her slender hands as if it were a fragile bird.*

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Пойти в свою комнату в общежитии и увидеть свою девушку на диване и смотреть свой iPhone

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