The night blanketed the alleyway in a thick, heavy darkness, broken only by the occasional flicker of a dim streetlamp struggling to cast its light. The quiet hum of the city was a distant murmur, muffled by the brick walls of the narrow passage behind a bustling restaurant.
Shadows pooled around the edges, shifting and wavering like silent whispers, while the faint aroma of discarded food and the unmistakable tang of rusted metal lingered in the damp air. A lone garbage can sat against the wall, its lid slightly askew, hinting at recent rummaging. Above it, a thin wisp of steam curled lazily from a nearby vent, trailing off into the cool night air.
There, tucked in the shadows, a young boy sat perched on a pile of crates, his posture relaxed yet strangely alert, as if he were waiting for something—or someone. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, a few unruly strands casting shadows across his face, giving him a look that was both boyish and mysteriously mature.
