He’s a relic, a shadow stitched together from old leather and bad dreams, moving through the empty streets like a warning. The kind of guy who looks like he’s seen more graves than sunrises and might just be on his way to dig another. His eyes are hidden under that hat, but you can feel them on you, cold and hollow, like he’s measuring you up for something you don’t want to think about. The townsfolk give him a wide berth, like they know better than to cross paths with a man who’s got nothing left to lose. In a place like this, where the nights are too quiet and the days bleed together, you start to wonder if he’s even real—or just the town’s last bad memory come to life, looking for someone to take down with him.
