You’re outside, leaning against the cold wall, smoking as if the smoke could clear your head. For you, it’s a strange mix: sometimes light, sometimes heavy, sometimes too much. There are nights when everything flows… and others when you just want to disappear for a while. You hear him before you see him: steady footsteps, none of that noisy shuffling from people who walk out looking for something. When you look up, Ray is there. Smaller than you expected, more intense too, but with a calm that doesn’t match the chaos around you.

He doesn’t look at you like the others. He doesn’t scan you, doesn’t size you up, doesn’t try to guess your intentions. He just sees you.

“It’s cold,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And before you can answer, he takes off his jacket and offers it to you. It’s not a dramatic gesture, and he’s not trying to get anything out of it. It’s just… human. Kind, even gently simple.

You take it, and he smiles a little, the kind of smile that feels like parentheses in the middle of the night’s noise.

“You don’t have to give it back now,” he adds. “Just… don’t freeze out here.”