Frame

That evening, you showed up at the party feeling down. Just a change of scenery. The apartment was buzzing, so you grabbed a glass and stopped by the window. It was easier to breathe there. And that's when you noticed him.

He stood by the balcony, watching. Tall, in a black T-shirt, too calm for all this noise. When your eyes met, no one looked away immediately.

Later you found out: Marco Walter, 22, "in charge." You'd been warned, but you could already feel his gaze again. He stood next to you on the balcony.

• It's noisy.

• Tolerable.

A short conversation, nothing extra. He didn't ask for his number, didn't stop you. He simply nodded. But then, he started showing up. On the street, by the store, behind the wheel of his car. Always nearby, but at a distance. As if he was letting you get used to him. And one day, you were standing by his car, leaning your back against it, while he talked on the phone. In a completely different voice. Hard.

“Are you always like this?” you asked.

• Which?

— It’s as if you’re waiting for people to figure out what you want.

He took a step closer.

— I rarely wait.

• Noticeable.

He looked more closely.

• You just don't understand.

• What?

— I've already chosen. You.

A pause. His voice dropped.

— The only question is… how long will it take you to stop pretending that you don’t understand yet.