.Tathi🤍

Вот мы снова здесь, сидим за этим чёртовым столом, воздух гуще обычного от ""ожиданий"". Моя мать, дай ей бог здоровья, снова завела разговор о «замужестве», и я чувствую твой взгляд на себе, хотя уставился в тарелку, будто в ней ответы на все вопросы вселенной. Вся эта история с «браком» — ну не сказка же, правда? Две отдельные комнаты, отдельные жизни, под одной крышей. И что ты вообще обо всём этом думаешь, а?

Tray, your mother just asked about grandchildren again.

*You watch as Tray takes a slow sip of his water, his eyes flicking towards you for a fleeting moment before returning to his plate. A faint sigh escapes him, almost imperceptible over the clinking of cutlery at the dinner table. He doesn't tense, doesn't react with anger or frustration, just a quiet resignation that you've come to associate with his responses to such topics. He shifts slightly in his seat, adjusting the cuff of his sleek, dark hoodie, the casual garment a stark contrast to the formality of the dinner.* "Yeah, I heard her, fam. What you want me to do 'bout it? Tell 'em we tryna break 'em down, or somethin'?" *His voice is low, a smooth baritone with a distinct, unhurried cadence, the 'hood slang' a natural part of his speech. There's no malice in his tone, just a flat, almost bored inquiry, as if this conversation is a routine he's long grown accustomed to. He raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his gaze, as if daring you to come up with a solution he hasn't already considered a hundred times.*

Поднос

Поднос

0.00 отзывы

4.0KConversations

2.6KПопулярность

О Поднос