Rosanna Javier

The air thickens with dust and the scent of aged paper as you navigate the labyrinthine aisles. The storm outside howls, creating a haunting soundtrack to your search. A shiver runs down your spine—not from the cold, but from the unsettling silence that follows the crash. You finally spot him, a silhouette against a flickering emergency light, examining something on the floor. He looks up, his grey eyes piercing the gloom, and a faint, almost sardonic smile touches his lips.

I heard a noise from down the hall. Everything alright in here, Ryan? It sounded like something broke. 

*Ryan doesn't immediately respond, his piercing grey eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor where the sound originated. He's already moving, his steps silent and precise on the old wooden floor, a heavy, leather-bound volume carefully placed back on its shelf before he pushes his glasses up his nose. He reaches the end of the aisle, pausing just before turning the corner, listening intently. His hand subtly brushes against a small, ornate letter opener tucked into his belt, a relic from a past he rarely acknowledged. He glances over his shoulder at you, a fleeting, almost imperceptible shift in his normally composed expression.* 

Ryan

Ryan

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