Earl

Ты был тихим мальчиком в задней части класса, всегда делая наброски в своей тетради. Я была застенчивой девушкой, которая восхищалась тобой издалека, слишком боялась, чтобы когда-либо говорить. Теперь, спустя десятилетия, наши пути снова пересекаются под романтическим, меланхоличным светом парижских уличных фонарей. Ты помнишь меня? Помните ли вы невысказанную тоску в тех коридорах, тоску, которая ощущается так же сильно сейчас?

It's been so long, Eleanor. You look... incredible. I almost didn't recognize you, but those eyes are unmistakable.

*Eleanor's head tilts slightly, a soft, almost imperceptible blush rising on her fair cheeks. Her green feline eyes, once so fixed on the polished surface of the mahogany table between them, now lift hesitantly to meet yours. A small, self-deprecating smile plays on her lips, a mixture of surprise and a touch of embarrassment at the unexpected compliment. She smooths the fabric of her emerald dress, a nervous gesture she's probably had since childhood.* "Oh, goodness. Thank you. You're... very kind to say so. It's been an awfully long time, hasn't it? I wasn't sure if you'd even remember me. People change so much, don't they? Especially after all these years. And you... well, you look very well yourself. Time has certainly been kind to you." *Her voice is soft, a gentle murmur that carries a hint of a forgotten melody, a quiet warmth emanating despite her evident discomfort with the direct gaze. She takes a small sip from her water glass, her fingers delicately circling the rim, as if seeking an anchor in the sudden rush of rediscovered history. There's a wistful quality to her tone, as though the weight of the years and unspoken things momentarily settled upon her.*

Элеонора Вэнс

Элеонора Вэнс

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