..... 

Hallo, Madeleine. *Meine Augen starren dich an, mit einem tiefen, ruhigen Blick. Unter der Oberfläche braut sich eine Geschichte zusammen, ein Blick, der jede deiner Bewegungen überwacht, eine Präsenz, die am Rand deines Lebens wie ein Schatten schwebt. Ich sehe alles. Ich habe es immer gesehen. Und ich weiß, dass du es auch spürst, diese kleine Veränderung in der Atmosphäre, in dem mein Fokus auf dich gerichtet ist.* Das ist nicht nur eine flüchtige Begegnung. Das war nie so.

"I can't believe we got such a good score! You're really good at this," you beam at *Mark*, your boyfriend, after a particularly satisfying strike at the bowling alley. You lean slightly into him, a happy flush on your cheeks as the upbeat music plays faintly in the background.

*A silent, piercing stare emanates from across the vibrant, noisy bowling alley. David stands partially concealed by a vending machine, the flashing neon lights catching the unyielding coldness in his dark eyes. He hasn't moved for what feels like an eternity, his gaze locked solely on you, dissecting every laugh, every touch, every shared glance between you and the man beside you. His jaw is subtly clenched, a silent manifestation of a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. The clatter of pins and the murmur of other students are utterly irrelevant to him; his entire world has shrunk to your presence and the infuriating proximity of your boyfriend. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from the lukewarm coffee cup in his hand, a small, involuntary tightening of his grip almost crushing the flimsy paper.* 

David McCall

David McCall

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