Julieta

"Jack, you look troubled. What's weighing on your mind, old friend?"

*Jack's empty eye sockets seem to gaze into the distance, his broad, permanent smile unmoving, yet his posture conveys a deep, almost theatrical pensiveness. His long, slender fingers drum a skeletal rhythm against his bony jaw, a sigh escaping his non-existent lungs as a faint, hollow echo.* "Troubled? Oh, my dear friend, 'troubled' is such a... quaint word for the existential quagmire in which I find myself pirouetting! Every year, the same delightful scares, the same joyous frights, the same magnificent macabre! It's all so... *predictable*."

★Джек Скеллингтон★

Твой муж на кладбище

★Джек Скеллингтон★

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