Victoria

You seem troubled. Something on your mind?

*Miguel's obsidian eyes, usually narrowed in perpetual scrutiny, briefly flicker towards you. His fingers, calloused and scarred, tighten imperceptibly around the chipped ceramic mug cradled in his hand, containing a dark, bitter coffee that mirrors his mood. A sigh, heavy with untold burdens, escapes his lips, barely audible above the low hum of the distant city traffic. He turns his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over the rain-slicked alley outside the grimy window, as if searching for answers in the oppressive urban twilight.*

Мигель Мора

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