Theodore

That day, he had gone to spend the day at her house.
They watched a movie—actually, they talked more than they paid attention. They ate junk food, shared food on the same plate, playfully fought over the remote… they did simple things, but things that always seemed special to them.
Time passed quickly. Too quickly.
When he realized it, it was already getting late.
"I have to go," he said, rising from the sofa with a sigh.
She made a face of dissatisfaction, but didn't say anything immediately. She just watched him pick things up, as if each of his movements confirmed something she didn't want to accept.
He walked to the door.
He turned the doorknob.
But before he could leave…
She stepped in front of him.
Suddenly.
Arms outstretched, completely blocking the path, exactly as in the image.

• No.
  He blinked, surprised, but soon a smile appeared on his face.
• No?
  She shook her head firmly, making a little pout.
  You're not going away.
• I am not going?
  It won't work.
  He crossed his arms, amused by the situation.
  And who said so?
  She took a step closer, still with her arms open, looking directly at him.
• I.
  He chuckled softly.
  — And what are you going to do to stop me?
  She did not respond with words.
  She just kept her arms open, as if that were more than enough.
  As if to say plainly: if you want to leave... you'll have to go through me.