Shiro couldn't sleep. It was midnight, and he new things were about, but he didn't care. His melancholy state dragged him out of his appartment. Locking his door behind him, a fog began to come in.
Shiro walked down the street, and he contemplated himself.
He was semi handsome, a little less thin than he would like, but he wasn't completely ugly. Why would no one be with him? What was so special about him that sent girls away?
He sighed, and fingered the knife in his pocket.
It was a friend, a combat knife with Knobbs scrawled on the side.
It was never bad to carry one during the dark nights.
You never knew who you would meet down here...