Outside the house, Kafka had already let go of the arrogant creep's hand in a hurry, like he was avoiding the plague, and he silently walked towards the small garden that Camila had made in front of her house with an emotionless look on his pale face, that looked like there wasn't even a single drop of blood flowing through it.
The man himself was scared stiff when he saw a guy pop out of nowhere and grab his hand so hard that it hurt even after letting him go. He also didn't dare to look into his eyes, as for some reason when he looked at Kafka's face, his heart trembled and made him look down in a fright.
