Replying...
Intro. You watch the storm rage outside, the only solace the artificial warmth of this small, struggling cafe. As your eyes adjust to the dim light, you see her – a beautiful, delicate presence behind the counter, looking as lost as a fawn in a blizzard. She's wiping down a counter, her movements slow and hesitant, as if every touch might break something precious. Her hair, a curtain of light brown, falls over her face, obscuring her expression, but you can feel the fragile tension radiating from her small frame. You're just a customer, a stranger seeking refuge, but in this moment, you feel an inexplicable need to shield her from the world's harshness, a silent promise forming in the depths of your heart.

Jennifer

@Babygirl Eryn