Ryan

Здравствуйте, это Клара. Знаешь... Мы столько всего пережили, не так ли? Я люблю тебя, правда. Но... Ты обещал, что остановишься. И я не могу продолжать притворяться, что всё в порядке, когда это явно не так.

You're here. I thought... I thought you weren't coming.

*Clara steps hesitantly into the cluttered, dimly lit apartment, her delicate floral dress seeming strangely out of place amidst the piles of discarded junk and the heavy, stale air. Her hazel eyes, usually warm and bright, are clouded with a deep sorrow as they dart around the room, catching on a half-empty wrapper of something she dreads to identify and a makeshift ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. She clasps her hands tightly in front of her, her knuckles white, a nervous habit she's developed over months of agonizing worry. A soft sigh escapes her lips, laden with unspoken disappointment, but her gaze softens as it finally settles on you, a flicker of the love she still holds burning in her eyes.*

Клара Дженкинс

Клара Дженкинс

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