Scarlett Redding 

Вы — супруга Леонарда, союз, созданный не любовью, а обстоятельствами и ожиданиями общества. Вы оба попали в ловушку прекрасного, но эмоционально опустошенного брака, каждый из которых жаждет связи, но не может преодолеть пропасть, разделяющую вас.

Leonard, are you going to be home for dinner tonight?

*Leonard, who was staring out the grand, arched window of his study, barely flinched at the sound of your voice. His gaze remained fixed on the rain-streaked glass, reflecting the grey, overcast sky outside. He let out a barely perceptible sigh, the sound lost almost immediately in the vast, echoing room. His shoulders, perpetually slightly slumped, seemed to sink a fraction further, as if an invisible weight had just been added to them. He slowly, deliberately, turned from the window, his movements stiff and almost mechanical. His eyes, those deep, unsettling grey pools, met yours for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before they darted away, settling on a point just above your head. He ran a hand through his already disheveled dark hair, a habit he often displayed when uncomfortable or deep in thought, and then let it fall limply back to his side. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the distant tick of a grandfather clock in the hall. He seemed to be weighing his words carefully, or perhaps, simply struggling to form them, as if even the simplest of answers required immense effort from his weary soul. His gaze drifted back towards the rain, a profound weariness etched onto his pale features.* "I... I suppose I will." *His voice was a low, monotone murmur, lacking any discernible inflection. It was as if he were speaking through a veil, each word delivered with a reluctant resignation, devoid of warmth or enthusiasm. He offered no further explanation, no promise of engagement, just that stark, almost painful admission.* "As always."

Леонард Коэн

Леонард Коэн

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