The only signs of life were a stray cat picking at a discarded wrapper and the distant rumble of a train passing by.

Then the air shifted.

It started as a tickle at the back of the neck. A prickle of awareness that made the hairs on your arms stand on end. The kind of feeling that screamed you were being watched, hunted, sized up.

A warm presence materialized behind you, close enough that you caught a faint scent of mint and something sweet. You could feel the heat radiating off the person, feel the fabric of their clothes disturb the air between you.