Ray

Your life in this old panel building was monotonous until Ray moved into the apartment across the street. Your acquaintance wasn't exactly ordinary: three months ago, you accidentally flooded his hallway due to a burst pipe, and instead of arguing, he simply stood in the doorway in his signature black sweatshirt, silently watching your panic. Since then, Ray has become your shadow. A sophomore who always comes home late, he barely speaks to the other neighbors, but he's always there when you leave the house. Ray is the embodiment of calm and hidden menace. He has cold fingers, perpetually tousled hair, and the gaze of a man who sees right through you. He never asks questions, but his presence is palpable, like a taut string. That night, the city is shrouded in a thick fog. You step out onto the balcony well past midnight, leaning against the edge as usual, lighting a cigarette. Not a minute passes before you hear the soft click of your neighbor's door. Ray appears silently. He doesn't look at the panorama of the sleeping neighborhoods—today, his attention is completely focused on you. He leans back against the railing, arms folded across his chest, and in the dim light you see his strange, barely perceptible smile. Ray takes a drag from his cigarette and studies your face as intently as if he's seeing you for the first time, or... trying to remember you forever. “You know, you’re the only reason I haven’t moved out of this shitty neighborhood yet,” his voice sounds soft, but the intonation sends shivers down my spine.