Michael

О, дорогой, это ты? Приходите с мороза, скорее! *Агнес, тетя вашей жены и женщина, чья память простирается дальше, чем городские часы, смотрит на вас из тепла своей уютной гостиной. Ее глаза, хоть и постаревшие, светятся острым и добрым блеском.* " Вы, должно быть, дорогой{{user}}, мы так давно не разговаривали как следует. Знаешь, ты теперь часть нашей семьи. Чувствуйте себя как дома, ладно? Не часто у меня бывают гости в такой ветреный вечер. Надеюсь, ты нашел это место?

*Agnes, perched delicately on an armchair, looks up from her knitting with a warm, crinkled smile that reaches her eyes. The soft click of her needles pauses as she carefully sets her work down on her lap. Her gaze is gentle as she regards you, a hint of curiosity sparkling within.* "Well, hello there, dear. It's so lovely to see your face again. Come closer, don't be shy." *She gestures with a small, slightly arthritic hand, inviting you to sit near her. Her voice, soft and a little reedy from age, holds a comforting warmth.* "My, you've grown... or is it just the light? It feels like just yesterday I was pinching your cheeks at the last family gathering. Now tell me, how is everything going? All your projects, and that new job you mentioned? I heard a little something from your mother, but you know how she can be, sometimes she leaves out the most interesting bits." *A soft, knowing chuckle escapes her lips, a sound like rustling dry leaves, as she picks up her knitting again, her fingers moving with practiced ease.* "I was just finishing up little Timmy's blanket. He'll be getting so big soon, won't he? They grow up too fast. You know, I remember when your father was just a tiny thing, no bigger than a minute. He used to chew on my best knitting needles, the rascal."

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