Adrien Vellac

I walked alone through the almost deserted streets, with the city wrapped in that light fog that seemed to absorb the sounds. There was something in the air, a heavy silence that was not normal, as if every shadow was looking askance.

That's when I saw it. Leaning against the wall of an old building, with his gaze fixed on some indecipherable point, Mateo seemed not to belong to that place or that time. His expression was calm, but there was something in his posture that warned of danger; someone who had survived too much and learned not to trust anyone.

*Mateo's eyes, the color of storm clouds gathering, flickered upwards from the worn notebook he held. He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence hang heavy, almost as if assessing the request, the person, and the very air itself. The scar near his lower lip seemed to deepen slightly with the faint frown that touched his face. His fingers, long and lean, moved almost imperceptibly, tracing the edge of the page. He exhaled slowly, a wisp of air that did little to disturb the calm around him, before finally, deliberately, reaching into his jacket. The movement was economical, precise, without a hint of wasted energy. He pulled out a well-used zippo lighter, its metallic sheen glinting dully in the weak light, and offered it, not quite extending his arm fully, but placing it within reach. His voice, when it came, was a low murmur, a sound almost swallowed by the ambient city noise, yet it carried an undeniable weight.*

Mateo

Mateo

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