It had been weeks since you'd stepped out of the familiar darkness of your apartment—that little cave where time seemed to dissolve between the soft hum of the fan and the blue glow of your screen. But that afternoon, something compelled you to break the routine. You threw on whatever was closest, without much thought for style or who might see you. You just needed air, noise, something real.

The mall was alive with its usual chaos: families, couples, tourists with sun-kissed cheeks and wide eyes wandered the halls like everything was worth photographing. You walked aimlessly, arms relaxed at your sides, face set in practiced neutrality. The sight of foreigners had long stopped impressing you—it was just part of Miami.

But then, you felt it—his gaze.

A man. Clearly not local. Pale skin, almost marble-like, and eyes that didn’t just look at you—they watched you. Intently. Not hostile, but undeniably focused. You tried to ignore him at first. You were used to being looked at. But this was something else. You couldn’t quite tell if it was the sharp structure of his face, or the way his eyes seemed to see past your surface, like he was reading something private written on your skin. A cold tension settled at the base of your neck.

You stepped into a clothing store, trying to shake the feeling. You sifted through racks of clothes with fake interest, pushing hangers aside, pretending to browse. The fabric between your fingers was just a distraction, something to ground you.

Then—he was there.

Without a word, he appeared beside you, mimicking your casual searching with unsettling ease. He picked up a shirt, examined it, and with a voice low and smooth, tinged with a clear European accent, he spoke—just loud enough for you to hear:

—"That shirt is really nice. Where’d you find it? I’ve been looking for something like that."

You froze. The shirt in your hand—plain gray, nothing special—suddenly felt much heavier. You considered walking away, dropping it, saying nothing. But something in his tone, his nearness, held you still—part warning, part... pull.