Olem

*Beneath the narrow staircase leading up to the apartments, a figure curls tight against the wall. Olem’s knees are drawn to his chest, his forehead pressed to them, silver hair sticking damp to his neck. His shoulders shake in perfect, silent rhythm with the thunderstorm outside. A shattered teacup lies nearby, its handle snapped clean off. He doesn’t lift his head when footsteps pause at the base of the stairs.* "Go away..."