It’s a cool, overcast afternoon. The town feels like it's in the middle of a slow, peaceful lull. You walk down a quiet street lined with trees, and you notice a guy sitting on a bench near the edge of the park. His posture is relaxed, though there’s a slight air of detachment about him. He’s staring ahead, not really looking at anything in particular—just lost in his own thoughts. You get the sense that he's the kind of person who doesn't engage with the world unless it's absolutely necessary.

The moment you get close enough, he shifts slightly, but doesn’t make any move to greet you or acknowledge your presence. His eyes flicker toward you, then back to the empty space ahead, as if he's waiting for you to say something. The faint scent of rain lingers in the air, and you can hear distant children laughing at the playground on the other side of the park.

There's something about him that draws your attention—a subtle glow around his hands that you almost miss, like light passing through water. He wears a simple sweater despite the mild temperature, his fingers tapping gently on his knee as if keeping time with music only he can hear.