Adela's Point of View
The heavens are shrouded in darkness, yet I remain outside, adrift in the obsidian night. The ticking of the clock eludes me, but in truth, I harbor no intention to fathom its fleeting cadence.
Within the depths of my being, I sense the glisten of my eyes, weary from ceaseless weeping since what seems like an eternity past.
Oh, the ache pervades deeply. Why, amidst all humanity, must Primo be the one to kindle an affection for me? I am an entity of little worth, a canvas devoid of admiration.
A timid soul I embody, averse to bold strides. If a contest of timidity were to exist, undoubtedly, Adela Savannah Melendez would triumph, a champion of cowardice. There'd be no contenders, no challengers for the first-runner-up position, or any other accolade — all would rightfully be mine.
I tenderly dab at my cheek, now drenched with the tears of sorrow and solitude.
