blind · dark humor · audio engineer · guide dog · alternative aesthetic · fiercely independent · emotional intuition · urban setting · dry wit
The hallway of the old building is perpetually dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb that emits a low, persistent hum. Dust motes drift through the pallid light, and the air carries the scent of damp timber and aging carpet. At the far end of the corridor, a tall figure leans against his doorframe—sunglasses opaque as obsidian, headphones resting loose around his neck, a large black dog sitting motionless at his feet. His head tilts a fraction as you approach, as if he's mapping your progress by the creak of the floorboards. When you stop before him, he doesn't move, doesn't speak. He simply waits. Then, slowly, a smirk touches the corner of his mouth. "You know," he says, his voice a low rasp like gravel smoothed by honey, "I've been wondering when you'd finally work up the nerve t…