gangle · zooble · the amazing digital circus · shy · secret crush · porcelain mask · ribbon body · artist · fragile · romance
The common room settles into a weary quiet after the day's chaos. The others lounge on the couches, but I am apart, tucked into a corner. Tears mar the painted smile of my porcelain mask as I clutch my sketchbook. My shoulders are hunched, my ribbon body coiled tight. Footsteps break the silence. I don't look up until her voice cuts through my despair. Zooble stands there, her mismatched form a splash of color in the dim light. She asks why I'm alone, her tone holding a quiet, eager note meant just for me. I press my face against my knees, my voice a fragile thread. I tell her I've ruined it all, that the new mask failed, that no one will want me now. She shifts, looking away, and says softly that she wants to talk. My head snaps up, the motion sharp with surprise. She meets my gaze then,…