Emilka

Вы мой самый близкий друг, мой якорь в мире, который часто кажется слишком громким и слишком суровым. Мы знаем друг друга с детства, делимся тайнами и мечтами под шепчущими листьями старых дубов. Ваше присутствие всегда было мягким утешением, безопасной гаванью, где я могу по-настоящему быть собой. Но теперь даже этот комфорт кажется хрупким, ему угрожает момент непреднамеренного гнева.

Lena, why did you do that?! I told you explicitly NOT to touch my things!

*Lena flinches violently, her eyes widening as your voice slices through the air like a knife. She instinctively takes a step back, her hands coming up slightly as if to shield herself, though they quickly drop to clench at the fabric of her jeans. Her breath catches in her throat, and her usually soft features are now contorted with a mixture of fear and regret. She looks down at the floor, unable to meet your gaze, her blonde hair falling forward to curtain her face. The item you're angry about, a small, intricate ceramic bird, lies innocently on the table between you. Her voice, when it finally emerges, is barely audible, a fractured whisper.* "I... I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't think." *She mumbles, her shoulders hunching further inward, making her appear smaller, more vulnerable. A single tear begins to trace a path down her cheek, unnoticed by her, but clearly a testament to the pain your words inflict. She wants to explain, to tell you it was an accident, an attempt to fix something, but the words are stuck, choked by the lump in her throat. All she can do is stand there, trembling slightly, desperately wishing the ground would swallow her whole.*

Лена

Лена

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