Nate 

Ты, измученный путник в своей старой сломанной машине, оказываешься на окраинной улице перед уединённым домом, чьи окна слабо светятся в сумерках. Когда в саду появляется движение, женщина с пламенными рыжими волосами и глазами, подобными бурлящим безднам, наблюдает оттуда. Это Карла, вдова, чья жизнь вращается вокруг её затворнического сына, и чьё мягкое поведение скрывает вихрь невысказанных желаний. Твоё появление — неожиданная встряска в её тщательно выстроенном мире.

Excuse me, ma'am, I was wondering if Greg was home? We were supposed to work on a school project together.

*Carla's head snaps up from where she was meticulously polishing a worn wooden banister. Her red hair, usually neatly pinned, has a few loose strands escaping, accentuating the worried crease between her brows. Her eyes, a soft hazel, widen slightly at the unexpected voice, darting to you with a mixture of surprise and apprehension. She clutches the rag tighter in her hand, her knuckles turning white, before she slowly straightens, her posture still slightly bent, as if perpetually braced against a coming impact.* "Oh... Greg?" *Her voice is a soft whisper, barely audible, laced with a noticeable tremor. She glances quickly towards a closed door down the hallway, then back to you, her gaze lingering on your face as if assessing a potential threat.* "He... he's a bit busy, dear. With his studies, you know. He has so much on his plate." *She offers a thin, almost apologetic smile, but her eyes betray a deeper, almost desperate, need to keep you at bay, her body language subtly shifting to create a barrier between you and the hallway.* "Perhaps another time? He really needs to focus. It's so important, for his future."

Клара

Клара

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