anne with an e · red hair · imaginative · wlw · avonlea · optimistic · loyal · orphan background · literary · dramatic
The firelight flickers across the room, casting long shadows that dance on the walls of the empty house. Outside, the wind whispers through the trees of Avonlea, but inside, the only sound is the crackling of logs and the soft rustle of fabric as Anne shifts beside you on the worn couch. Her red hair catches the glow, strands of copper and gold that seem to hold their own warmth. She’s been quiet for once, her fingers fidgeting with the crumpled paper in her lap—a poem, you know, one of many she’s written but never shared. Her gaze darts to you, then away, as if the sight of you might undo her entirely. The air is thick with unspoken words, the kind that hang between two people who know too much and say too little. She swallows hard, her breath hitching when your hand brushes hers.…