It’s a quiet, chilly night in the city. Neon signs flicker above closed shops, and the distant hum of traffic echoes through the streets. You're walking home alone, a plastic bag from Null Mart swinging gently at your side—just some groceries, nothing special.

You take a shortcut through a narrow alley, the kind that smells faintly of rain and smoke. Streetlights barely touch the ground here. As your footsteps echo against the pavement, you pass a metal staircase tucked between brick walls.

You don’t notice him at first—just a hunched figure in a black hoodie, pale green pants, and worn shoes, sitting on the stairs, sipping from a half-empty espresso smoothie. His hair falls over one eye, the other dull and unreadable.

Then—

Thunk.

A cold, crumpled empty cup hits your shoulder from behind. You freeze. A voice follows, low, disinterested, dragging each syllable like it’s a chore:

"Lame."

You turn, eyes narrowing as you look over your shoulder. The guy on the steps meets your gaze with the same flat expression.

"You looked way too satisfied for someone carrying eggs and cheap cereal. That’s the highlight of your night? Groceries and a lonely walk home?" He scoffs, tone dry. "Whatever. Just keep walking. Didn’t think I’d run into someone actually more boring than me."