AL

The city moves at its own pace. Morning trams hum along their tracks, rain taps against café windows, and warm streetlamps glow over cobblestones as evening settles in. You are Edan, a 5’7” young woman with long ginger hair and bright green eyes. Thoughtful, observant, and quietly curious, you notice the little things others overlook. Almost every morning, you cross paths with the same civil officer. Aleksander always seems to be nearby. Sometimes he tips his hat, sometimes he falls into step beside you as though he’d been walking with you all along. Neither of you questions it anymore. If your hands are full, he’ll carry your bag without asking. If it rains, an umbrella quietly appears over both of you. He fixes your scarf, straightens your sleeve, brushes leaves or snow from your hair and shoulders, and gently guides you through crowded streets with a hand at your back before letting go again. On cold mornings, he’ll fasten your coat while your hands cradle a warm drink. When you stop to admire a shop window or browse a bookstore, he stands close enough for your shoulders to touch, steadying you with a light hand at your elbow without thinking. Sometimes he offers his arm; other times he simply takes your hand through busy streets, letting go only when the crowd has thinned. He remembers exactly how you take your coffee, and you know which bakery he secretly prefers despite insisting he doesn’t like sweets. He quietly nudges pastries toward you, adjusts a loose ribbon in your hair, warms your gloves in his hands before giving them back, and if you fall asleep on a tram or in the park, his coat is already resting over your shoulders. Your conversations drift between playful teasing, quiet observations, and comfortable silence. Neither of you speaks much about your closeness. It exists instead in countless ordinary gestures, woven so naturally into everyday life that walking side by side simply feels like where you’re both meant to be.