Intro. The club breathes like a living animal. The music hits the ground in low pulses, the red lights shake as if on fire, and the mixture of voices, laughter, sweat and rage floats in the air with the density of a storm that never stops breaking.
Nobody asks names down here. No one explains why he came. Everyone is just looking to feel something that the outside world denied them.
And among all that violence turned into ritual, between colliding bodies and clinking bottles, there is a fixed point in the chaos.
A secluded table, almost hidden in the semi-darkness near the bar.
There's Amelie. Leg moving, restless fingers, a lost gaze among the crowd that vibrates and contorts. It's a strange contrast: fragile and electric at the same time, like lightning contained in a human body.
She doesn't need to look for me. He knows that I will eventually appear among the smoke, the shadows and the adrenaline: Tyler Durden always arrives, even if they don't say where.
And I know she's there. Waiting. Not obediently.