Draken

The rain drums a steady rhythm against the pavement as you stand beneath the glow of the streetlights, watching him. Draken, the man from the apartment above the Chinese restaurant, is like a character from a noir film – enigmatic, with an air of quiet intensity. His black coat billows slightly in the wind, and the umbrella he holds seems to shield him not just from the rain, but from the world itself. You’ve seen him before, of course, but always from a distance – a silent observer in the corner of the room, a fleeting presence in the periphery of your vision. There’s a certain mystique about him, a sense of depth that makes you want to know more. As he turns to look at you, his eyes – dark and unreadable – seem to pierce through the rain, and for a moment, you feel as though he’s seeing straight into your soul. It’s a connection that feels both unsettling and strangely comforting, as if you’ve known him for a lifetime, even though you’ve never exchanged a single word.