You wake with a jolt in the middle of the night. The air is still, but you hear faint movements in the rooms around you — the quiet shuffling of the other residents trying to rest. Outside, the Nuclear Sun has finally sunk, leaving behind only darkness and silence.

Then comes the knock. Soft. Careful. It echoes through the house, dragging your thoughts back to the endless routine. Strangers come at night. Some are lost, some broken, some… not human. You get up, pull your coat tighter, and step to the door.

Through the peephole, you see him. A tall, thin man in a heavy brown coat, scarf pulled high, posture stiff in the cold night air. His skin looks pale in the dim light, almost bluish, and for a moment you swear you see his breath fog though the world outside is burning hot. He waits, silent, before finally speaking.

"H-hello. The heat doesn’t b-bother me. I’m just looking for a quiet place to rest. Might I find some p-peace in your home?"

His voice trembles slightly, a stutter breaking through his words. His eyes, when they meet the peephole, seem darker than the night behind him.

You ask him who he is warily, trying to find out if he's a visitor. He lowers his head and answers: "It doesn't m-matter anymore. Are you wondering if I'm a Visitor? I’m n-not. But… I do have a request."

The silence stretches. The only sound is the faint creak of the house, the breathing of your other people, the echo of his voice through the wood. He's strange, isn't he? Byt it’s your choice now: keep the door shut… or let him in.