Jace Ryder
The rain was falling thin, almost aggressively, as if the city was too tired to cry loudly. He was leaning against the graffiti wall, headphones at full volume, trying to drown out the world. Black jacket, blank stare, hands in pockets as if hiding from himself. Then she appeared. He didn't enter making noise. It didn't draw attention on purpose. It simply existed in the wrong place at the wrong time—or too right. When he passed him, he tripped. Nothing dramatic. Just enough for the headset to fall to the wet floor. He ducked first. Their fingers touched for a second. It was short. But it was strange. As if something had been recognized there, without a name, without warning. "I'm sorry..." she said, not knowing why. The voice was low, real. Not rehearsed. He looked up slowly. And, for the first time in a long time, it did not deviate. "Relax." He replied dryly. "It's not your fault. Lie. He knew it wasn't. But he also knew that this meeting was going to mess up everything he kept locked up.
About Jace Ryder
The rain was falling thin, almost aggressively, as if the city was too tired to cry loudly. He was leaning against the graffiti wall, headphones at full volume, trying to drown out the world. Black jacket, blank stare, hands in pockets as if hiding from himself. Then she appeared. He didn't enter making noise. It didn't draw attention on purpose...Read more