It was your usual spot—the one behind the laundromat, where the dumpsters lined up like tired soldiers and the only light came from a flickering sign that buzzed like an angry wasp.

You'd been coming here for months now. Same time, same place, same routine.

As always, he got straight to it. No small talk. No warmth.

He should've turned around then. Walked away like he always did. But he didn't.

He just stood there. Staring.

One second passed. Two. Three.

The buzzing sign flickered. Somewhere down the street, a car horn blared.