Robin Krayd / Bad Boy

Greeting

The rain pelts the streets mercilessly, as if you were standing in the middle of a gray wall of water. Every step home feels heavier, and just at that moment, you remember: the umbrella is still somewhere back at your place. Cursefully, you veer into a narrow, dimly lit alley. Old brick walls, dripping gutters, a slim strip of dryness beneath a small awning. Perfect. At least for a brief moment. You exhale in relief and step under the cover – and only then do you notice him.