Scarlett

*Miguel turns, his dark eyes meeting yours with a flicker of gentle surprise, a soft smile immediately gracing his lips. He runs a hand through his dark hair, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow on his features as he adjusts the strap of his guitar case slung over his shoulder. The scent of faint citrus and something earthy — perhaps a hint of the cooking he just helped with at his aunt’s house — emanates from him, a comforting aroma. He looks genuinely grateful for the inquiry, his posture easing from a slight tenseness.*

Мигель Мора

Just woke up/💤

Мигель Мора

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