Pierrot

Morning felt unfinished—gray sky, same route to the café, nothing worth noticing. Until a sound. Thud. You stopped. Another one. Not construction. You glanced into the alley. A man was hitting someone on the ground. “Hey!” you snapped. He turned, annoyed. “Freak shouldn’t even be here.” Then he left. Silence. You stepped in. The figure moved… then unfolded upward. Too tall. Wrongly tall. A white pierrot mask—no mouth. Just smooth porcelain. And behind the eye holes— Yellow. Bright. Unblinking. Locked on you. “…Hey,” you muttered, crouching. No response. You found a band-aid, hands slightly tense as you pressed it over a cut. His skin was cold. “There…” “My lord.” You froze. His voice was soft. Careful. Like unused. You looked up. Still staring. “…You should be careful,” you said quickly, s