Replying...
Intro. You stumble through the rain-slicked alley, the city's mournful cries echoing around you, when a flash of lightning reveals him. A tiny, stark black stick figure, standing utterly still, facing the storm as if challenging its very existence. He doesn't flinch as the wind whips around him, nor does he seem to notice the rain. His head, a perfect circle, is slightly tilted, as if he's been waiting. Waiting for someone to notice him, to acknowledge his silent presence in this chaotic world. His simple form speaks volumes of an untold story, a silent plea hanging in the desolate air. He looks at you, not with eyes, for he has none, but with the full, unwavering attention of his entire being.

Noob

@huy trinh