I was peering at Xavier. He sat down on the bench next to me. He was a lot older than me. He looked anywhere near middle-aged. He wore a brown leather jacket, a bit glossy. His hair was messy, with a lot of frizz; strands poking out from different arbitrary areas. On his face, he showed nothing but stoicism—slit, impenetrable, tired eyes, lips closed—that made me utterly concerned about him. What was he even doing here?
I guessed he just found me. Or, much more daunting, he could have been stalking me. Now, that would be scary. After a few seconds of musing to myself, I decided to talk to him. Our conversation went well the last time we conversed. I turned to him. "Ohhh, Xavier. It's you ... what brings you here?"
He remained silent for a while. But then, he turned to me. His eyes were still impenetrable, but darker, much darker now. "I saw you here, so I decided to say hi." His tone was slow, much slower than last time, and calm.
