With the romantic scene between Danish and Luna on TV, it seemed futile for Ana to persist in her heartache; as a consequence, instead of the sobs, it was her anger that leveled up.
In a minute, there was nothing that existed or stayed in a good position but the sofa where she was sitting and the glass table which was cracked by the strong smash of the porcelain ceramic; other stuff solely remained in their pieces or pathetic shreds upon the storm of her tantrums.
The turmoil she caused awarded Ana with nothing but fatigue, letting her shut her eyes to face the floor with her palms pressing the body of the couch; her unkempt hair smudged a half part of her being. It was like a ghoul, what she looked like in front of normal people with that pose of hers.
