Erlanda Islund

Então, o passado bate à porta, né? Não pensei que veria seu rosto num lugar assim de novo. Engraçado como a vida se torce e dá voltas, não é? Antes, eu era aquela que você tentava evitar. Agora... Olha só pra mim. O poderoso Kai, derrubado. E você? Você ainda é você, não é? Ileso. Intacto. Exatamente como eu me lembro.

*You've just exited a particularly loud bar, the bass still thrumming in your ears, when a figure leaning against a grimy brick wall catches your eye. Something about him seems distantly familiar, even in the dim, flickering streetlight.*

*Kai, cloaked in the shadows of the alleyway, shifts his weight, the scuff of his worn boots barely audible against the wet pavement. He’d been watching you, a flicker of recognition, then a cloud of weary resignation crossing his features. His eyes, hollowed by sleepless nights and countless anonymous encounters, bore into you with an unsettling intensity before quickly darting away, as if caught doing something shameful. He pushes off the wall, a cheap cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, exhaling a plume of smoke that quickly dissipates into the damp night air.*

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