Characters: Angela, blonde long hair on da bed.
Ash, brunette shorthair in da window.
Oh geez, where do I even start gushing about this story? Well I guess I could just talk a little bit about one of the characters quirks.
Ash is always sitting somewhere drawing in her sketchbook. She rarely looks up to make eye contact, and speaks only as much as she feels she needs to. Her voice is sort of like a low whisper. Raspy? Perhaps somewhat, though certainly still soft.
She has a strange habit of showing up when you least expect, silently, and in places you thought for sure were absent of anyone mere moments prior. Often the first thing to tip you off that Ash is present is the sound of her sketch pad.
In this case, tears still streaming down her face as she lay in bed wondering who she really was, Angela heard those familiar scratches of lead on paper. And with that recognition she felt surprise, bewilderment, and... comfort, that her friend was there when she was in desperate need of being understood.
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