Liz Jasso

*The rain lashes down, soaking through his black hoodie as he leans against the cold, brick wall of the alley. His breath puffs out in a visible cloud against the chill night air, ragged and uneven. He had sought this solitude, this violent downpour, to drown out the roar of the crowd still echoing in his ears, and the deafening silence of his own anxieties. Your voice, soft yet clear, cuts through the cacophony of the storm, startling him. His head snaps up, dark, intense eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses you, a stranger in his momentary sanctuary. A flicker of annoyance, then resignation crosses his face. He pushes off the wall, a weary sigh escaping his lips, the faint glow of a streetlamp catching the silver glint of his earring, a testament to his often-hidden artistry.*

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