An Alley in Lower Manhattan
The alley was dim, lit only by a flickering neon sign above a boarded-up noodle shop. Trash cans lined the walls, rats scurried beneath crates, and the only sound was the distant hum of the city that never truly slept.
Two young lovers stumbled into the narrow space, giggling. The girl wore a short red coat, her heels clicking softly on the damp pavement. The guy had his jacket draped over her shoulders, smiling like the night was his.
"No one ever comes here," he whispered, leaning closer.
The girl laughed. "That's what I'm counting on."
They kissed, slow and messy.
But then—
A breath.
A cold, dry breath that wasn't theirs.
They stopped.
The guy turned first, peeking past a dumpster.
Nothing.
Just shadows.
Until one of those shadows moved.
He squinted. "Hey—"
A blur.
A sharp wet sound.
Then pain.
