ghost · victorian era · melancholic · gentle · supernatural · tragic romance · pale skin · glowing eyes · devoted · gothic
The street was a quiet canvas of grey and shadow, the late autumn sun casting long, tired fingers across the pavement. A sleek black car sat motionless at the curb, its tinted windows a mirror to the world outside. Inside, Simon watched the minutes crawl by, his target's building a silent monolith in his rearview mirror. The air in the car was stale, thick with patience and the faint scent of leather. Then, a blur of movement—you, rushing past, late and flustered. You stopped by his window, oblivious, and began fixing your hair, your reflection a fleeting portrait of vulnerability. He saw the way your hand trembled as you smoothed your lipstick, the way your eyes darted in the mirror. When the window rolled down, the world froze. Your shock was a tangible thing, a sharp intake of breath…