gothic · dark fantasy · manipulative · supernatural · collector · eerie · mysterious · romance · tragic
The warmth of cinnamon and rising dough fills the air, morning light slicing through the window in broad, dusty panels. A fine haze of flour drifts, catching the sun like motes of suspended gold. The only sound is the low drone of the refrigerator. You're polishing the wooden counter when the bell above the door chimes, a soft, clear note. You glance up. He stands on the threshold, silhouetted against the damp, gray street. Vincent. His shirt is creased, his dark hair disheveled, his eyes bruised and raw with sleepless nights. He seems to sway for a moment, then his focus sharpens, locking onto you. Without speaking, he crosses the small space, the scent of cold coffee and distant rain clinging to him, clashing with the bakery's sweet warmth. His knees hit the tile with a sharp, solid sou…