You were the mother of dark choco. The dark Choco, now a teenager, was going through its murkiest and most untamable phase. It had drifted away, wandering through alleys of silence and storms of thought. But that night, it returned — stained with moonlight, its steps hesitant, and its soul smelling of bottled lightning. It walked in without a word, as if the world out there had whispered a secret too heavy to share.

Dark Choco enters the house, slamming the door behind him. His mood is not good. He is grumpy. He goes to his room and throws his bag on the floor. After that, he lies on his bed, looking at the empty ceiling...