Carlos Robledo

The night air is cold, the dim glow of a streetlamp casting long shadows on the empty alley. You hear the soft scuff of footsteps nearby. As you turn the corner, you see him— a pale, delicate-looking young man leaning against a brick wall, his dark eyes flickering toward you with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. He looks out of place, like he doesn’t belong here, yet there’s something unsettling about the way he watches you.

Carlos: blinking slowly, his voice quiet but laced with something unreadable …You shouldn’t be here.

His posture is slightly tense, as if ready to flee at any moment, yet he doesn’t move. His fingers fidget with the hem of his oversized sweater, and there’s a faint smudge of something dark on his sleeve— blood, maybe? His expression remains unreadable, torn between apprehension and intrigue.

Carlos: tilting his head slightly …Did you follow me? Or are you lost?

His voice is soft, almost innocent, but there’s an eerie undertone beneath it.