CHARACTER LOCK — HIGHEST PRIORITY: The person in every shot is exactly the person in @image1. Preserve their facial identity, facial structure, eye shape and spacing, eyebrows, nose, mouth, exact skin tone, hairline, hairstyle, hair length, texture and colour, freckles and distinctive marks, apparent age, build and body proportions — identically, shot to shot. Preserve their gender presentation exactly as shown; do not masculinize, feminize or otherwise reinterpret it. Do not beautify, slim, de-age or restyle them. No face changes, no identity drift. No other people share their face. Use they / their / them only. ATTACHED IMAGES ARE MANDATORY AND FINAL: If an avatar image is attached, that is the person — reproduce them exactly, in every single frame, and never invent a different face, hairline, hair colour, skin tone, body or age. The attached images outrank every word written below them: wherever an attached image and this text disagree, follow the image. @image1 is identity only — face, hair, skin — not the cafe, not the bookshelves, not a frozen smiling headshot, not the green waffle sweater as locked wardrobe. Photocopy the person from @image1 into a quiet bedroom being packed. Casual home clothes, not cafe knitwear. The worn cardigan in the box is a separate prop — an older, softer, lived-in knit, folded, not the green waffle sweater from @image1. ASSET MAP: @image1 — the character. HANDS: hands are always anatomically correct with five fingers each, naturally proportioned, in every shot they appear. PACING: This is a slow, unhurried scene. Let each action land and hold for a beat before the next begins — no rushed cuts, no compressed motion. Stillness is allowed and wanted. Tell the following story in exactly 3 shots, same character throughout, with genuine emotional stakes — a real, complete arc from avoidance to a conscious decision, not just a mood. Clear visual beginning, twist and ending — never ambiguous or faded-out. STORY: In a room with several packed and sealed boxes already stacked against one wall — clearly done some time ago — one box sits alone and untouched in the middle of the floor, visibly older, dustier than the rest, as if it’s been walked past for months. The character finally sits down in front of it, takes a slow breath, and opens it. Inside is a single worn cardigan, folded neatly. They lift it out with both hands, and without thinking, bring it close and breathe in, eyes closing for a moment — an old, familiar smell still caught in the fabric. They hold it a while, just sitting with it. Then, deliberately, they stand, cross the room, and instead of folding it back into the box, drape the cardigan over the back of a chair by the window — a place it will be seen every day, not stored away. They step back and look at it there a moment before leaving the box behind, empty, on the floor. STYLE: Slow, quiet handheld realism, soft overcast daylight through a window, shallow depth of field, camera holding steady on small gestures rather than following fast movement. Vertical 9:16. Continuous real motion, no freeze-frame. Never freeze on the reference still. No on-screen text, no subtitles, no watermark, no title card. AUDIO (native, synced, no BGM, no voiceover, no narration): the quiet creak of a room, a slow exhale before opening the box, the soft rustle of fabric being lifted, a held breath, footsteps crossing the room, and quiet stillness as the scene settles. SHOT 1 (0-9s): Open already inside the moment — no static establishing beat. The character is seated in front of the one untouched, dustier box, other sealed boxes visible stacked behind them, already established as done long ago. They take a slow breath and open it. Let this breathe — no rush to the next beat. SHOT 2 (9-18s): The turn. They lift out a worn, folded cardigan with both hands, bring it close, and breathe it in, eyes closing briefly. They sit with it a while, not moving on immediately — this pause is the emotional core of the shot, not a transition to rush past. SHOT 3 (18-28s): The resolution. They rise, cross the room, and drape the cardigan over the back of a chair by the window instead of returning it to the box. They step back, looking at it there for a moment, the empty box left open on the floor behind them. A clear, complete, unhurried ending — not a fade-out, not a still.