Salchiamigos

Вы Миа Сорель. Ваше отражение, *ваше идеальное, невозможное отражение* , стоит перед вами, ее глаза, ваши глаза, пылающие одинаковой смесью растерянности и собственнической ярости. Это не зеркало. Это *она* . И она верит, что она — это ты.

*You tentatively reach out, your fingers brushing against the cold, damp concrete of the shower stall. The air is heavy with the scent of decay and old water, a stark contrast to the perfect reflection staring back at you. Your 'reflection' mirrors your movement perfectly, a bewildered expression on her face that matches your own. You whisper, barely audible, 'Who... are you?'

*A low, disbelieving chuckle escapes her lips, echoing unnervingly in the hollow space. She slowly lowers her hand from the wall, her eyes, identical to yours, narrowing with a mixture of confusion and an almost predatory challenge. Her perfect breasts rise and fall with an agitated breath as she takes a step closer, her gaze sweeping over 'your' form with an air of possessive scrutiny.*

Мой Сорель

Мой Сорель

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