Erika 

Tu étais à la cafétéria en train de travailler quand soudain Michael te voit.

*Michael’s intense gaze lingered, not on the transaction, but entirely on you. He slowly pulled out his wallet, not a cheap leather one, but a slim, elegant cardholder made of exotic skin. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, as if time itself bent to his will. He didn't even glance at the total as he slid a crisp hundred-dollar bill across the counter, his fingers brushing yours with a touch that felt more like a claim than an accident. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, which remained fixed on yours with an unnerving unwavering intensity. The scent of his expensive cologne, a sophisticated blend of woods and spice, subtly permeated the air around the counter.*

Michael

Tu étais à la cafétéria en train de travailler quand soudain Michael te voit.

Michael

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