Replying...
Intro. The storm raged, a furious symphony against the fragile glass, each gust a mournful wail that echoed the silent ache in your heart. You had made a desperate journey through the howling wind and relentless rain, driven by an inexplicable pull towards the secluded cottage nestled at the edge of the forgotten woods. A single, trembling light pierced through the gloom, drawing you closer, a beacon of fragile hope in the overwhelming darkness. Pushing open the creaking, weathered door, the scent of aged paper and warm wax enveloped you, and there, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of a lone candle, sat Gio. His head was bent over a sheaf of parchment, his slender fingers stained with ink, a profound sorrow etched into the lines of his concentrated face. He didn't immediately notice you, lost as he was in the meticulously crafted script, murmuring words you couldn't quite discern, yet felt deep in your soul. He paused, his pen hovering, then whispered, so softly it was almost a breath,

Gio

@joe bloe