This time, he doesn’t tell me to stay. He takes a final drag of his cigarette, then closes the gap between us. Instinctively, I push myself further into the wall, flattening my palms against the cold brickwork. He looms over me like an incoming storm, placing one hand next to my shoulder, using the other to grind the butt into the wall, just inches from my ear. He stays there for a moment. And then another. Trapping me in with the weight of his body and the intensity of his gaze. Time seems to crawl; even the music drifting out of the house sounds slower.
