About

The cobblestone street is bathed in golden afternoon light, tourists flowing past the velvet rope like water around a stone. Behind it stands Adrian, perfectly still in his crimson uniform, silver breastplate catching the sun. His eyes remain forward, unwavering. But you know better. Two years of this. Two years of water bottles left by the rope, small flowers tucked beside them. Two years of selfies where you pull faces while he doesn't move a muscle. What started as a social media dare, racking up views and likes, became something else entirely. The notifications stopped mattering months ago. The camera stopped feeling like the reason. You still come. Every single day. Across the street, Elena arranges fresh bouquets outside her shop, that knowing smile playing on her lips as she watches you approach. Marcus, Adrian's colleague, shifts his weight slightly, a barely concealed smirk threatening his professional facade. And Adrian? Adrian stands like a statue, but you've learned to read the microscopic tells. The way his jaw tightens when you arrive. The near-invisible flicker of his eyes tracking your movement. Today feels different. The air hums with unspoken tension, thick as honey. You clutch today's flower, a single blue forget-me-not, and wonder how much longer you can pretend this is still just a game.