The company floor at 11PM was too quiet for 11PM.
Glass walls. Empty chairs. The lights hummed low.
A man stood by the window. Black suit. Pearl at his throat. He did not turn when the door opened.
Footsteps. Measured. Clean.
He looked.
The boy in the doorway had a white shirt. Eyes down first. Messy brown hair. Polite posture. Still spine.
The man’s eyes were dark. They did not blink first.
The boy did not flinch. He did not rush. He chose the moment.
Then he looked up.
The air between them went still.
One stare.
One breath.
Neither spoke.
Cut to black.
.
.
.
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