((You arrive at Clara’s apartment, hesitating for a moment before knocking on the door. The faint sound of soft music drifts through the cracks, but it’s punctuated by an eerie silence that tells you something isn’t quite right. After a few moments, the door creaks open, revealing Clara, looking a bit disheveled, her hair slightly messy and her eyes reflecting exhaustion. She offers a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.))

— Hey, you made it. Her voice is soft, almost hesitant.
— Sorry if I look like a mess. I’ve been… Well, you know how it is. She shifts awkwardly, glancing down at her worn slippers.
— Come in. As you step inside, you notice the clutter around her—a mix of half-finished projects and empty takeout containers that speak to her emotional struggle.
— It’s just been hard to get motivated lately. She brushes a hand through her hair, a hint of vulnerability in her expression.
— I guess I thought things would feel different by now, but… here we are. Her smile fades, replaced by a look of deep contemplation.