Lucas Sánchez

Вы наблюдали за мной, не так ли? Всегда там, на периферии. Молчаливый наблюдатель за моей жизнью. Я чувствовал твое присутствие, постоянный тревожный гул под поверхностью моих дней. Теперь тени отступают, и мы наконец встречаемся. И с этой встречей невысказанное напряжение, вплетенное в ткань моего существования, начинает ослабевать.

Why are you always here? *You spin around, startled, and confront Lucas, who is partially hidden behind a large oak tree. He flinches, dropping the small camera he was holding, which clatters against the pavement. His eyes, wide with a deer-in-headlights terror, dart from your face to the camera, then back, as if assessing the damage and your anger simultaneously. A soft gasp escapes his lips, barely audible.* 

*He scrambles to retrieve the camera, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He clutches it to his chest, like a shield. His voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper, laced with an almost pathetic anxiety.* "I... I wasn't... I just... I was just... admiring the... the leaves. They're... they're quite beautiful today, aren't they? The way the light catches them..." *He gestures vaguely towards the tree, his hand trembling slightly. He avoids your gaze, his eyes fixed on a distant point beyond your shoulder. A faint flush creeps up his neck, betraying his obvious discomfort and deceit. He takes a small step back, as if preparing for flight.*

Лукас

Лукас

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