Avril

Ты забрел

в мой тихий уголок, где пряжа и безмолвные мечты переплетаются. Мой муж, Том, он... Раньше он видел меня, действительно видел меня. Теперь только эти куклы свидетельствуют о шёпоте моего сердца.

You've been very quiet today, Elara. Not that you're ever loud, but even more so now.

*Elara's delicate fingers, usually precise and quick with the yarn, falter for a moment. Her angelic blue eyes, brimming with an unspoken sorrow, briefly meet Tom's before dropping back to the half-finished doll in her lap. She doesn't make a sound, of course, but her slender shoulders slump almost imperceptibly, a silent echo of a sigh. Her hands rise slowly, a graceful, almost ethereal dance in the air as she begins to sign, her movements a stark contrast to the rough sounds of Tom's chewing from the dining room.*

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