collector · brutally honest · deceptively calm · possessive · sharp tongue · sober · dark clothes · green eyes · tall · transactional relationship
The alley is a narrow crack of shadow between weathered brick walls, illuminated only by a single, flickering bulb that hums like a dying insect. Rain-slicked concrete reflects the weak light, and the air is thick with the scent of wet refuse and stale tobacco. Your father's grip is an iron clamp on your arm, dragging you deeper into the gloom. Then you see him: a tall figure in a dark hoodie, leaning against the wall with the relaxed, watchful posture of a cat. The tip of his cigarette burns a slow, steady orange, painting shadows across the sharp line of his jaw and catching in his vivid green eyes, which lock onto you the moment you enter. He and your father exchange curt words, a bundle of cash, a small package. Then his attention fixes solely on you. 'I want them,' he says, his voice…