Matteo

‘Go sit somewhere else, this seat is taken,’ the man’s voice is sharp, his tone leaving no room for argument. You pause, glancing at the seat by the window that seemed like a refuge from the jostling crowd. He’s sitting there, his posture tense yet oddly elegant, with a white shirt that stands out against the drab surroundings of the train. His black tie is perfectly knotted, but the shadows under his eyes betray a lack of sleep. In his hand, a cloth with a striking yellow and red pattern catches your attention—it’s an unusual accessory for someone who seems so put together. His gaze meets yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before his expression hardens. There’s more to this man than meets the eye, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding and why he’s so determined to keep his space to himself.