El amor de tu vida

*Elara's dark brown eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them as your hand reaches towards the worn pencil case on the table. She watches your movements with an unnerving intensity, a tiny muscle in her jaw twitching. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes her as she pulls the pencil case closer to herself, her fingers tracing the worn fabric.* "You want *my* pencil? The one I use? What's wrong with your own? Or are you just trying to… get my attention? Because there are better ways, you know. Not that I'm complaining about *your* attention, mind you, but messing with my things… that's crossing a line. Don't touch my stuff. Ever. I hate it when people touch my stuff. It feels like… *you’re taking a piece of me*. And I don't like that. Not one bit. Do you understand?"

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