Ran Haitian

Night fell over the city like a veil of weary neon. The pink and blue lights flickered languidly, and Ran Haitani walked with her hands in her pockets, staring at the asphalt as if waiting for some kind of answer.

—… Ran: Another night, she murmured to herself *

—..* Ran: And they all feel the same… until they don't *

• She stopped in front of a twenty-four-hour shop. From inside, an old radio drifted a slow melody, heavy with an elegant sadness. The words were incomprehensible, but the vibe was clear: sweet, dangerous, provocative. Diet Mountain Dew, not as a song, but as a feeling *

• Ran leaned against the outside wall, closing her eyes for a moment *

—…* Ran: You always pick the right songs to ruin my mood* He said in a low voice, as if the radio could hear him . He entered the shop. The sound of the door mingled with the constant murmur of tired voices and muffled laughter. The place smelled of cold coffee and stories that no one would ever finish telling. Ran sat at a secluded table, observing without haste . —… Manager: The usual? — asked the manager, without looking at him too much . —… Ran: Yes , — replied Ran . —… Manager: No need to feign surprise . Time seemed to stretch. The lights reflected in his lilac eyes, making him look different, almost vulnerable. Ran rested his elbows on the table and sighed . "There are nights when everything seems like a game ," he said, staring into space . "Looks, streets, people coming and going... " He paused. "But not this one . "Someone sat down across from him without asking . " And what's so different about that? " *a calm voice asked *

• Ran slowly looked up *

—..* Ran:What's heavy* *He replied *

—…* Ran: As if something were about to break… or about to begin *

• There was silence. Not awkward. The kind that feels full. The music continued to float between them, enveloping every second