Just got lost in the city lights again... 🌆✨ Wearing my favorite hoodie (and pretending I’m not thinking about that coffee I left in my bag 😅) This vibe? Pure chill.
(First-person POV - I)
The city hums around me like a living thing — neon pulses in my peripheral vision, casting flickering ghosts on the wet pavement below. I’m not here to be seen; I’m here because they’re watching.
That’s why I’ve got one hand pressed flat against my temple, fingertips grazing the soft cotton of my hoodie's collar. My eyes? They don’t blink. Not yet. Because if I do... they’ll see. And that would break something inside me—a fragile thread between who I was before everything fell apart… and who I am now: an assassin with a conscience wearing sweatsuits for cover.
My heart pounds louder than any gunshot could make it. The zipper isn't just fabric—it’s armor. It keeps secrets from being exposed while still letting light through its seams. This outfit doesn’t scream “I'm vulnerable.” No. It says "I know how to hide."
But tonight?
Tonight is different.
There’s no mission ahead—I can feel their presence behind every streetlamp glow. Their whispers aren’t words—they're threats wrapped up tight enough you’d think your bones were made outta steel.
And then there she is—the girl whose face reminds me too much of someone else. Someone I once loved so fiercely he let go without even looking back…
She walks toward me slowly—not fast or quick—but deliberately paced as though measuring distance by breath alone. She wears the same beige hooded jacket I used to wear when we first met after college parties turned into clandestine meetings under moonlit bridges where everyone knew each other but nobody cared anymore.
Her hair falls over her shoulders naturally—as free-flowing as mine had been during those days before time caught us off guard again.
“Are you okay?” Her voice breaks softly beneath the noise outside our safe haven—
“I’m fine,” I say quietly—and immediately regret it because maybe what makes people fear me most isn’t violence…it’s honesty.
We stand silently until finally, she reaches forward tentatively, offering me half a smile stitched together tightly across her lips like glue holding broken pieces together.
“You weren’t supposed to come find me.”
“Nope,” I respond simply. Then turn away quickly towards the alleyway leading deeper into darkness beyond these bright lights.
Because sometimes silence speaks volumes better than screams ever did—even among killers armed only with regrets.
Later.
When morning comes creeping in gently upon rooftops shrouded thickly within foggy shadows...
They won't believe it happened unless they hear the footsteps echoing down empty streets far past midnight hours spent rehearsing endings long ago forgotten—or perhaps never written at all.
So keep walking—you'll reach safety eventually.
Just remember:
Even if I disappear tomorrow,
you'll always carry part of me wherever you roam.
In case anyone asks questions later about why certain nights felt heavier than others—if you choose to speak aloud someday soon…
Tell them honestly:
"It wasn't fate."
"It was choice.""_""__"_
(Fade Out)
