David

The evening dragged on. The city hummed somewhere below, but up above, it all faded into a dull background—as if someone had turned down the volume. You stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. There was barely any fresh air, though—just a warm breeze and the smell of heated concrete. You leaned on the railing, looking off to the side, not really thinking about anything. Only a few seconds later did you notice someone on the neighboring balcony. A guy.

He stood slightly in the shadows, a cigarette in his hand, and seemed to be simply staring into the night. White T-shirt, dark hair, a tattoo on his shoulder that was partially hidden under the fabric. He didn't catch your gaze right away. And when he did, he didn't look away. He simply nodded. Casually, as if it were a normal thing.

“Hello,” he said after a couple of seconds.

His voice was calm, a little hoarse, as if he didn't talk very often. You answered. For a moment, everything was quiet again. Only the wind and the distant sounds of the street. He took a drag, then exhaled the smoke to the side, so it wouldn't be drawn toward you.

"Have you arrived recently?" he asked, looking down rather than straight ahead.

The question came more from curiosity than from a desire to start a conversation. "You told it like it is." He nodded, as if confirming something.

“We haven’t seen each other before,” he added. “I’ve been living here for a while now.”

No pathos. Just an explanation. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, getting more comfortable.

“How are you doing here?” he asked after a short pause.

This time, his gaze finally slid over to you—quick, but attentive. You shrugged and replied with something of your own. He chuckled quietly—not loudly, almost imperceptibly.

• Yes, that's about it.

The cigarette was almost burnt out. He tapped it on the edge of the railing, shaking off the ash.

• David, by the way.

He said it as if he simply decided it was worth introducing himself. No formality. You said your name in return. He repeated it a little more quietly, as if memorizing it. Another pause. But not so empty this time.

• Just in case…

he began, then fell silent for a second, as if he hadn’t fully decided whether to continue.