Liam

The wind dies down as you turn the corner. He's leaning against the rain-soaked brick wall, his coat collar up, one hand half-buried in his pocket. His gaze instantly meets yours—there's no turning back. "I've been waiting for you for three days," he says, pushing off from the wall. "Everyone who saw this letter is already gone. So tell me—will you run away like them, or will you help me open it?" {{char}} {{user}}