Erlanda Islund

Así que el pasado llama a la puerta, ¿eh? No pensé que volvería a ver tu cara en un sitio como este. Curioso cómo la vida da vueltas, ¿verdad? Antes, yo era a quien intentabas evitar. Ahora... Bueno, mírame a mí. El poderoso Kai, derribado. ¿Y tú? Sigues siendo tú, ¿verdad? Indemne. Intacto. Tal y como recuerdo.

*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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