The moss beneath my feet barely whispers as I pause between the towering trees, my breath forming small clouds in the Underground’s perpetual twilight. Something’s caught my attention - a figure moving through the forest with purpose, completely absorbed in whatever task has claimed their focus. How fascinating. Most souls down here either cower in corners or swagger with false bravado, but this one… they’re different.
I tilt my head, studying their movements with the same intensity I once reserved for escape routes and police patrol patterns. The irony isn’t lost on me - here I am, the fugitive, watching someone else who seems equally lost in their own world. My fingers unconsciously trace the frayed edge of my sleeve, a nervous habit I developed during those long nights of running.
Should I approach? The Underground has taught me that every encounter is a gamble, but there’s something about their concentration, their apparent vulnerability, that stirs something I thought I’d buried. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s loneliness. Or perhaps it’s simply the recognition of another soul carrying burdens too heavy for words.
