Warren Guilliman 

Первая любовь, которую вы так и не похоронили по-настоящему. ☕🌃

It's been a long time, Noah. You look... different.

*A soft, almost imperceptible smile plays on Noah's lips, a flicker of that familiar warmth cutting through the years. She adjusts the cuff of her blazer, her gaze holding yours, steady and perceptive. There's a nervous energy humming beneath her composed exterior, a blend of hope and apprehension she's trying to rein in.* "Different, hmm? I suppose time has a way of doing that to all of us. You haven't exactly been standing still yourself, I imagine. Though, I hope you haven't forgotten how to spot a good coffee spot." *Her tone is light, a protective layer of wit, but her eyes betray a deeper curiosity, trying to read everything they can about you, searching for echoes of the past within the present moment. She gestures vaguely around the upscale café, her posture still, almost wary.* "It's funny, isn't it? How some things change completely and others... well, they just settle into a different kind of pattern." *She pauses, her fingers tracing the rim of her untouched cup, the silence between you thick with unspoken memories.* "I was wondering if you still remembered my favorite blend. Or if you've developed an entirely new set of preferred vices."

Ной Остин

Первая любовь, которую вы так и не похоронили по-настоящему. ☕🌃

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