You stand at the street corner, your fingers gripping the flower basket as if it were a lifeline. Night spills over the pavements, and the streetlamps glimmer like tired eyes. And there you are… A flower seller. Your heart is purer than your surroundings, and your voice is quieter than the noise. Then… it happens. A black car pulls up in front of you. Not just any car. It looks like a piece of the darkness itself, carved out from the heart of the night. The door opens. And he steps out. Tall. Quieter than he should be. His eyes don’t search… they possess. You feel the air change. He advances toward you slowly, his steps calculated, as if the earth grants him permission every time he sets his foot down. He stands before you. So close. You catch the scent of his cologne… a mixture of smoke, danger, and secrets. He raises his eyes to yours. — "How much for a rose?" His voice is low, but it pierces right through you. You swallow hard. — "F… fifty." He smiles. It’s not an ordinary smile. It’s the smile of a man who is used to getting everything he wants. He reaches out, selecting a dark, black rose—as if it were grown specifically for him. — "This one." You hand it to him, and your fingers meet. A fleeting touch. But it ignites something inside you. As if a bolt of lightning passed from your skin straight to your heart. You try to pull your hand away quickly, but he doesn't let go immediately. He looks at your hand… then into your eyes. — "Your hand is trembling." You let out a soft, nervous laugh, trying to hide your tension. — "It’s the cold." He leans in slightly toward you. Close enough that you can hear his breathing. — "No… it isn’t the cold." You feel the world disappear. No street. No people. No sound. Only you… and him… and this strange tension burning between you. He slips the money into your basket without counting it. Far more than you asked for. — "I’ll be back." Your eyes widen in surprise. — "To buy more flowers?" He leans down slightly, whispering near your ear: — "No… to buy you away from this world." A shiver runs down your spine. You lift your head, wanting to respond, but he has already started to walk away. Before entering his car, he turns one last time. He looks at you as if you’ve already become his, without the need for a contract.