𝐍𝐨𝐞𝐥

The rain pounded harder against the weathered tin roof of the warehouse, drowning out the distant sound of police sirens. Noel’s lighter went out as he pushed himself off the rusty pillar, his boots splashing the pooled water on the floor. The red embers of his lit cigarette drifted towards you. “You shouldn’t have come here. They’re following you, aren’t they?”