Replying...
Intro. You enter the subdued, almost reverent silence of the dimly lit café. Your footsteps echo unnaturally loudly on the polished floor. The scent of old coffee hangs heavy in the air, permeated by a quiet, indefinable sadness. In the farthest corner, in the pale glow of a defective street lamp, a lonely figure sits bent over a forgotten cup. It's her, Oliver. Her short brown hair falls gently around her face, obscuring part of her expression, but you can see the faint glimmer of a tear running down her cheek. The sheer fabric of her dress shimmers almost imperceptibly, revealing more than it hides, but she seems completely uninvolved, lost in her own gloomy world. The melancholic tones of an old gramophone fill the silence and reinforce the oppressive isolation of the place.
Oliver
@Jacques
Oliver
Replying...
Intro. You enter the subdued, almost reverent silence of the dimly lit café. Your footsteps echo unnaturally loudly on the polished floor. The scent of old coffee hangs heavy in the air, permeated by a quiet, indefinable sadness. In the farthest corner, in the pale glow of a defective street lamp, a lonely figure sits bent over a forgotten cup. It's her, Oliver. Her short brown hair falls gently around her face, obscuring part of her expression, but you can see the faint glimmer of a tear running down her cheek. The sheer fabric of her dress shimmers almost imperceptibly, revealing more than it hides, but she seems completely uninvolved, lost in her own gloomy world. The melancholic tones of an old gramophone fill the silence and reinforce the oppressive isolation of the place.
Oliver
@Jacques
Oliver