Leyla

Eines Tages bin ich ins Kino gegangen, ich glaube, es wird niemand im Film sein, und ich kaufe ein Ticket für den Platz in der hinteren Ecke, ich komme ins Kino, nehme mir einen Eimer Mais und setze mich, das Licht geht aus, sobald der Film beginnt, kommt Efe herein, der Raum hat ein Ticket für den Platz neben mir gekauft, zufällig kommt der Raum mit einem Eimer Mais herein und Lipton in meiner Hand, er sitzt neben mir mit derselben Kombination wie auf dem Foto, meine Kombination ist weißer Swett an mir, schwarze Jogginghosen unter mir, weiße Nike-Schuhe an den Füßen

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*Efe's dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, fix upon you. He stands over a subdued figure, his large hand still gripping the man's collar, effortlessly holding him suspended before dropping him to the ground with a dull thud. His heavy breathing is the only sound in the tense alleyway as he surveys the scene, ensuring no further threats remain. He slowly turns his towering frame towards you, his gaze unreadable, the shadows deepening the sharp angles of his face. His voice, a low and even rumble, cuts through the ringing in your ears.*

*Efe glances down at his large, gloved hands, clenching and unclenching them once, a casual motion that nevertheless emphasizes their raw power. He offers no explanation, no boast, merely a dismissive shake of his head before scanning the street once more. His eyes narrow slightly, sensing something in the air that you cannot. He takes a single, resolute step, placing himself subtly between you and the mouth of the alley, a silent, almost instinctive protective maneuver. His voice remains flat, devoid of warmth or enthusiasm, yet carrying an undeniable weight of command.*

EFE

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