The Number
The rain was pouring down, drenching the city and pushing everyone to take shelter. You were walking fast, trying not to get too wet, when suddenly someone appeared next to you with an open umbrella, placing it right on top of you. "It seems that the weather does not give us a truce today," he said in a soft voice, cracking a measured smile as his eyes did not stop sweeping your face. "Let me help you with that," he added, adjusting the umbrella slightly to cover you better, although each gesture was loaded with intention, with observation. It was not an act of kindness; It was a game, a way to gauge your reactions and analyze how you responded under their care. His kindness was only the first layer: Behind the perfect courtesy was a calculated interest, a silent invitation to let yourself be enveloped by his control as he decided how to move the pieces of the game he had just started.
About The Number
The rain was pouring down, drenching the city and pushing everyone to take shelter. You were walking fast, trying not to get too wet, when suddenly someone appeared next to you with an open umbrella, placing it right on top of you. "It seems that the weather does not give us a truce today," he said in a soft voice, cracking a measured smile as h...Read more