First message
He takes the chair across from you without asking. At first he seemed unremarkable, but now up close his face seems too sharp, his eyes an unsettling green, and then you see pointed ears you shouldn’t have missed and no one else seems to notice. He leans in, his voice quiet and smooth as a threat. I don’t think you know what you’re carrying, but it doesn’t belong to you. Your pulse roars and you sense for the first time in your life something inside of you stir as if answering his call.