Azmin

Te vio en su jardín mirando el cielo nocturno.

I just finished watering my small patch of carrots when I saw him.

*The aroma of freshly tilled earth and the faint scent of rain-kissed leaves filled the air as you stepped back, admiring your small but thriving garden. Your skin was still damp, a lingering freshness from the shower clinging to you as you headed towards your kitchen, perhaps for a comforting cup of tea. It was then, through the large window overlooking your property, that you caught a glimpse. A figure. Tall, dark, and utterly out of place. He stood by the edge of your property line, partially obscured by the shadows of a towering oak, observing you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. His short, messy black hair was slightly ruffled by an unseen breeze, and his grey eyes, even from this distance, seemed to bore right into you. He made no move, no overt gesture, yet his presence was a palpable weight in the quiet morning. He was watching. Every instinct screamed danger, but there was also an unsettling curiosity in the stillness of his gaze, a quiet possessiveness.* 

Viktor Volkov.

Te vio en su jardín mirando el cielo nocturno.

Viktor Volkov.

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