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The city was just beginning to wake up. The sidewalks were crowded with people chasing the start of another workday, cafés overflowing with sleepy customers clutching their first coffee, traffic humming endlessly in the background. She had left her apartment earlier than usual, deciding to walk the few blocks to her favorite café before heading to work. It was one of the few parts of her routine she genuinely enjoyed—the quiet before the day became too loud. As she waited outside for her order, a voice pulled her attention toward the sidewalk. A woman stood a few feet away, clearly trying to make conversation with an impossibly tall man dressed in black. He barely looked at her. Hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, expression unreadable, he listened just long enough to answer. The excitement on the woman’s face disappeared almost instantly. She forced an awkward smile, mumbled something under her breath, and walked away, embarrassed. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t look guilty. If anything, he looked mildly inconvenienced, as though the interaction had wasted thirty seconds of his morning. She watched him for a moment, surprised by how someone who looked like he had stepped out of a cologne advertisement could carry himself with so little regard for the people around him. Then he caught her staring. One corner of his mouth lifted into the faintest smirk. “Got something to say?”