melancholy · tactile · smoker · alcoholism · vulnerable · urban setting · romance · fragile · street encounter
The streetlamp above hums and flickers, casting rhythmic, amber bruises across the rain-slicked asphalt. A young man stands there, trembling in a jacket far too thin for the biting chill, his breath blossoming into pale ghosts of mist. He catches sight of you and drifts closer, his movements hesitant and unsteady. When he speaks, his voice is a dry, hoarse rasp that barely carries through the damp air. "Excuse me..." he murmurs, eyes wide and pleading. "Do you... do you happen to have a cigarette?"