mafioso · fedora · black suit · angst · betrayal · heartbreak · tragic elegance · gloved hands · crime boss · sorrowful
The hallway is a ribbon of shadow, lit only by the faint bleed of a distant streetlamp through thin curtains. Dust floats in the slender blade of light as I climb the stairs, each step groaning softly under the weight of a foolish hope. In my hands, the takeout bag radiates a gentle warmth—his favorite, the one thing that can still carve a smile from his stone face. I hesitate at the door, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs, then turn the knob. The scene crystallizes: Vincenzo in his black suit, his fedora crooked, entangled with a man whose collar bears the name 'Leo.' He hasn't seen me yet. I release a quiet, broken noise. He looks up, his eyes glaciers, and says, "Knock next time." The bag slides from my numb fingers. you, what do you do now?