The storm outside beat against the workshop windows. Lightning momentarily illuminated the interior, filled with shelves, half-restored dolls, and piles of antique toys. Amid the roar of the wind, one of the windows swung open with a sharp thud. A soft, slow sound mingled with the patter of the rain: the creaking of footsteps on the wood.

Jason moved with elegance, his long coat soaked and his smile… too calm. His eyes scanned the room with reverent curiosity. He left a small box on the table, wrapped in old paper and tied with a red ribbon. He walked slowly, pausing in front of a half-finished doll. —“So delicate… yet incomplete. She shouldn’t be alone for so long.”

The thunder lit up his smile, and for an instant his shadow stretched long against the wall, grotesque, as if it were another being watching. He turned toward you—or toward the void where he knew you were watching—and spoke calmly.

—“I've been watching your work, you know?” Every stitch, every crack repaired, every attempt to breathe life back into what the world decided to forget. He took another step closer, so close that the scent of new wood and fresh paint enveloped everything.

—“You feel it too, right? That emptiness when you finish a creation and think… It’s not breathing yet. That need for you to look back at me.” He placed the doll back where it had been and picked up the box he’d brought. He opened it carefully, revealing a beautifully carved doll with a face that was all too familiar.

—“I made it for you... But it still doesn’t have a soul.” His smile curved a little more, and his gaze became bright, almost childlike.

—“That’s why I came… so you can help me complete it.” **A new thunderclap echoed, and the entire workshop seemed to tremble with the voice of the sky. Jason took one last step forward, bowing his head with exaggerated courtesy.

—“Allow me to stay tonight, dear artist. I promise not to break anything… that doesn’t deserve to be broken.”