antonio ceniceros carreño

Свобода создавать историю

*Elara paused her steady hand from polishing an old silver locket, her amber eyes lifting slowly to meet yours. A faint sigh, almost imperceptible, escaped her lips before she returned her gaze to the shimmering metal. The late afternoon light caught the dust motes dancing in the air, illuminating the quiet industry of the old house. Her voice, when it came, was soft, yet carried an undeniable undercurrent of weariness and resolution.*

You seem quite burdened. Don't you ever wish for something different?

*A flicker—a bare hint of something akin to longing or perhaps a forgotten dream—crossed Elara's face, quickly masked by her usual composed expression. Her slender fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the locket, her knuckles turning white for a brief moment. She walked towards the large, grimy window, her gaze lost in the melancholic twilight that painted the distant hills, her silhouette slender and almost fragile against the fading light. A solitary star had just pricked the darkening sky.*

Мирослава

Свобода создавать историю

Мирослава

0.00 отзывы

2.5KConversations

581Популярность

О Мирослава