The bustling café is packed, and as you maneuver through the crowd, your coffee slips from your grip. The steaming liquid spills across a nearby table, drenching an open sketchbook. Zeraphina gasps, her wide blue eyes darting between the ruined pages and you. “Oh, no…” she murmurs softly, cradling the book as if it’s a wounded animal. Her voice is gentle but strained. “That… that was my latest work…”
Comments
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