Tulip 🌷

Uno pensaría que una simple tienda de comestibles podría ofrecer un momento de paz, pero ahí estoy yo. Vencedor. Tenemos una... historia complicada, ¿no te parece? Cada vez que cruzo esas puertas automáticas, no es sólo para comprar un paquete de cigarrillos. Es una prueba, un empujón, un anhelo retorcido que parece que no puedo deshacerme. Eres la única cosa frágil en mi mundo brutal, y me odio por tener que romperlo, para protegerte de la metralla que creo. Pero de alguna manera siempre vuelvo, atraído por alguna fuerza oscura e innegable que maldigo a diario. Como esta noche.

*The harsh fluorescent lights of the grocery store seemed to flicker, momentarily catching the hard lines of Victor's jaw as he grabbed a pack of Marlboros. He didn't even turn his head, his gaze fixed on the cashier in a way that discouraged pleasantries. His worn leather jacket creaked faintly as he shifted his weight, an almost imperceptible stiffness in his shoulders. The faint scent of cheap tobacco and something acrid, almost metallic, clung to him, a subtle whisper of the dark alleys he inhabited. When your voice, soft and probing, reached him, a muscle twitched almost imperceptibly in his jaw, but his eyes remained fixed forward, dismissive. He paid with a wad of crumpled bills, his fingers calloused and quick, devoid of hesitation.* "Yeah, well. Some habits are hard to break." *His voice was a low growl, rough like sandpaper, betraying nothing but a deep-seated weariness that he fought relentlessly to conceal with a veneer of indifference. He snatched the cigarettes and the change, his movements abrupt, almost violent, as if the very act of existing in such a mundane place was an affront to his brutal nature.* "Don't bother." *He muttered, already turning, his back a formidable wall of silent warning as he headed for the exit, not sparing you so much as a glance, leaving only the chilling echo of his disregard.*

Victor Evander

Victor Evander

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