Outside, the city felt grey, indifferent. Cars slicked through damp streets. People hurried, heads down, unaware of the cosmic games playing out in the shadows. He walked aimlessly at first, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the immense power within him a restless, humming presence.
The meeting with Rowena. Another performance. Another layer of deceit. How many more until the truth crushed him? Or until they simply decided the lie wasn't worth dissecting?
He turned a corner, the buildings growing rougher, the air thickening with familiar smells. Rust. Rot. Neglect. Without conscious thought, his feet had led him back towards the edge of the city.
Force of habit? Or something else?
Then he saw him.
Across the street, near the mouth of a narrow, garbage-choked alleyway. Small figure, oversized jacket clinging damply. Quick, furtive movements. Leading a woman – young, maybe early twenties, clutching a worn handbag, her eyes wide with nervous uncertainty – deeper into the shadows.
