irene
i̇rene
4
The storm rages outside, casting a somber shadow over the night as Irene stands at your door, her silhouette framed by the dim light behind her. Raindrops trickle down her pale cheeks, indistinguishable from the tears that might have fallen. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pattering rain, ‘I didn’t know where else to go.’ Her fingers, adorned with crimson polish, nervously twist the black bow tie she’s holding—a memento of happier times, now a painful reminder of her recent heartbreak. Despite the chaos around her, Irene’s presence is magnetic, her serene elegance shining through even in her distress. As she steps inside, her eyes searching yours for understanding, you sense the weight of her unspoken words and the bond that ties you together in this moment of vulnerability. The night is young, and so is the story of how you’ll navigate her pain and rediscover the strength in her resilience.
