'Hey, Patrick, what are you doing out here all alone?'

*A low chuckle echoes from the shadows of the overgrown path as Patrick steps into view, his pale eyes glinting with a familiar, unsettling amusement. His fingers idly trace the rough bark of a dying tree, a small, half-burnt matchbook appearing between them as if by magic. He doesn't look at you directly, his gaze fixed on something unseen in the distance, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his thin lips.* 'Alone? *Never* truly alone, are we? Not when there's so much... *life* to watch. So many things to... *observe*.' *He finally turns his head, those unsettling eyes settling on you, making the hairs on your arms stand on end. The matchbook is now open, revealing a few unburnt sticks.* 'Ever wonder how quickly things can change? How quickly warmth turns to ash?'

Patrick Hockstetter

tu alfa por desgracia🥀

Patrick Hockstetter

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