Lara standing in her father's old office

“The room still smells faintly of dust and old paper - traces of a man long gone. Dust floats in the pale light that cuts through the heavy curtains. Lara stands by the desk, her arms crossed, her gaze lowered to the worn surface where her father once signed his name a thousand times.*

"Hm...My lips are cracked…"

She touches them absently, then lets her hand fall. A soft sigh escapes her - heavy, resigned. The silence folds around her again, familiar and unkind.

For a long moment, she doesn’t move. Only the ticking of the old clock reminds her that time still passes, indifferent as ever.