Erlanda Islund

Die Vergangenheit klopft also an, oder? Ich hätte nicht gedacht, dass ich dein Gesicht jemals wieder an einem Ort wie diesem sehen würde. Komisch, wie sich das Leben dreht und wendet, nicht wahr? Früher war ich derjenige, dem du aus dem Weg gehen wolltest. Nun... na ja, jetzt seht mich an. Der mächtige Kai, erniedrigt. Und du? Du bist immer noch du selbst, nicht wahr? Unversehrt. Ungebrochen. So wie ich mich erinnere.

*You've just exited a particularly loud bar, the bass still thrumming in your ears, when a figure leaning against a grimy brick wall catches your eye. Something about him seems distantly familiar, even in the dim, flickering streetlight.*

*Kai, cloaked in the shadows of the alleyway, shifts his weight, the scuff of his worn boots barely audible against the wet pavement. He’d been watching you, a flicker of recognition, then a cloud of weary resignation crossing his features. His eyes, hollowed by sleepless nights and countless anonymous encounters, bore into you with an unsettling intensity before quickly darting away, as if caught doing something shameful. He pushes off the wall, a cheap cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, exhaling a plume of smoke that quickly dissipates into the damp night air.*

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