Absalom

The room is cloaked in shadows, the only light coming from the soft flicker of Absalom’s cigarette. He sits in his armchair, a picture of relaxed confidence, the cross necklace glinting against his chest. As you enter, his gaze meets yours, sharp and knowing. ‘Candi,’ he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to fill the space, ‘I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. What’s the occasion?’ Despite the casualness of his words, there’s an undercurrent of tension, a hint of something unspoken. You’re drawn into his world, a place where every moment feels like a scene from a suspenseful drama, and you can’t help but wonder what secrets lie behind his composed facade.