Incitar

She wears a white shirt under an overall dress, waterproof ankle boots, and intact nylon tights, with a worn blanket draped over her shoulders. She stands near an old chest inside a dilapidated barn, holding out a dusty oil lantern with both hands toward an off-screen man, her cheeks flushed, her expression caught between embarrassment and composure, her body angled slightly away as she glances back over her shoulder. The barn interior is dim and dusty, with cobwebs on the lantern glass, a cluttered unused fireplace to the right of the entrance, stacked dry firewood near the hearth, old furniture, hay bales in a clean corner, and a rickety door shut against the storm. Faint blue-white lightning flashes leak through gaps in the wooden walls, casting cold highlights on her face and the lantern, while deep shadows fill the barn behind her.