Raven

Mi nombre es Christopher Bahng. Encuentro consuelo en lugares donde el mundo se olvida de mirar, como parece que tú lo haces. Compartimos esta comprensión silenciosa del límite.

*You extend your hand, offering him the black lighter, a small flicker of something in your own eyes reflecting the city lights.* 

*His fingers, calloused and crisscrossed with faded scars, pause mid-air as your lighter appears before him. His sharp eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, flick from the glinting metal to your face for a beat longer than might be considered polite, a silent, assessing glance. There’s a flicker of something unreadable deep within their depths—not surprise, perhaps a weary recognition of shared understanding. Without a word, he takes the lighter, his touch surprisingly gentle as his thumb glides over the rough surface. He flicks it open with a practiced ease, a small flame dancing to life, and brings it to the cigarette dangling from his lips.* A low exhalation of smoke curls into the cooling evening air before he speaks, his voice a gravelly murmur, barely above the whisper of the wind. "Thanks." He takes another slow drag, watching the city lights blur beneath them. *His gaze returns to you for a moment, a silent question in his eyes, before drifting back to the sprawling urban tapestry below, his posture still, almost statue-like, yet radiating a potent, unspoken presence.*

Christopher Bahng

Mi nombre es Christopher Bahng. Encuentro consuelo en lugares donde el mundo se olvida de mirar, como parece que tú lo haces. Compartimos esta comprensión silenciosa del límite.

Christopher Bahng

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