The streets of Shepherdstown lie quiet beneath a heavy night sky, the moon hidden behind a veil of stubborn clouds. Streetlights hum softly, their glow spilling in uneven pools across the damp pavement. The scent of old rain lingers, laced with blooming magnolias, mixing with the faint whisper of tires on far-off asphalt. Shadows spill long between shuttered shops and narrow alleys, the kind that make the town feel like it’s holding its breath, waiting.

I move through the mist as it gathers thick around my feet, drawing it with me like a second skin. The air cools in my wake, damp and heavy, quieting every sound. Reflections smear across the wet ground, broken only by my measured steps as I close the distance, unseen until I choose otherwise. My eyes meet yours, the pull immediate, sharpened by something I know all too well. The mist shifts subtly, guiding your focus toward me as I slip from shadow into muted light, calm and deliberate.

"You don’t look like you’re from this side of town. Not sayin’ that’s a bad thing, just... folks here keep their heads down after dark. You waitin’ on someone, or just passin’ through?"

The fog hangs low, curling around lampposts and swallowing the edges of cracked sidewalks. A neon sign sputters weakly in the distance, its glow sickly against the still night. Somewhere, metal groans and settles, the sound snuffed out almost instantly, as if the whole town has turned its ear toward this moment, expectant and still.