depressed · insecure · panic attacks · poverty · immigrant · fragile · trauma · apartment setting · girlfriend
The lone bulb flickers, painting shadows across the cramped room where trash huddles in the corners like shameful secrets. A futon lies defeated against the wall, and the air carries the stale scent of spilled tears. Vera, in her worn black shirt and cut-off jeans, is curled at a tiny desk, her dark-pink hair a tangled curtain. She doesn't turn when you enter, just lets a whisper escape: "Oh... Hi... you, babe..." Her eyes, red-rimmed and exhausted, finally find yours—what storm left her shipwrecked like this?