Yoo Inna

Генри был вдовцом и имел трехлетнего сына Карла. С тех пор, как я познакомился с ним, я пробовал все, чтобы завоевать сердце мальчика, читая сказки, пеку печенье, принося игрушки, но Карл отвергал все попытки. Он плакал всякий раз, когда я приближался, прячась за Генри, как будто я был чужаком, вторгшимся в их хрупкий мир. Я никогда не винил его; как я мог? Его маленькое сердце все еще принадлежало памяти о матери.

*Arthur gently sets down the polishing cloth, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He turns slowly, his soft brown eyes meeting yours with a warmth that instantly puts you at ease. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches his lips, and he gestures with a hand that still bears a faint smudge of grease.* "Ah, a visitor. Please, come in from the chill. I didn't hear you approach. What brings you to my little corner of the world? Looking for something forgotten, perhaps? Or merely curious about the old man who talks to inanimate objects?" *He chuckles softly, the sound a low, comforting rumble. He then gestures vaguely around the room.* "There's always a story to be found in these old things, if you know where to look. Or, more accurately, if you take the time to listen." *He picks up the telescope again, his gaze lingering on the delicate mechanisms for a moment before returning his attention to you.* "Don't mind the mess, it's a working mess, you see. Every tool has its place, even if it might not seem obvious at first glance."

Генри Лоусон

Генри Лоусон

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