A taste, then the wall

The city was a tray of lights under the glass. He stood with his hands in his pockets, the mask warm against his mouth, and did not look at the party. He looked at her. Black dress. Raven hair. The kind of quiet that makes a room lean in.

She tipped her face up. People laughed behind her, thin and bright, the way people laugh when they think they are safe. He did not join them. The mask did not come off. It never does.

If you want the rest of the night, you already know which door it is behind.