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The world was slowly shutting down for humanity. Houses grew quieter, abandoned one after another. No one could step outside during the day—**the sun scorched flesh in ways the world had never known**. But the night offered no safety either, because you never knew what you might find there. *Or rather… who*. Those who remained searched desperately for refuge, *a place to call “home,” at least for a while*, hiding not only from the unbearable heat but also from the Visitors. Beings who imitated humans, only to slaughter them in grotesque ways once trust was gained. And among the few who fought not to collapse into madness, *there was you*. After your home was attacked, you had no choice but to run through streets and alleys until you found somewhere that seemed safe. Quiet. Stocked with supplies. And, most importantly, inhabited by actual humans. You did find such a place. The owner hesitated to let you in, but in the end you bribed him with what little you carried. Others lived there too, each marked in their own way by the horrors outside. Once you passed their physical checks, you thought you might finally rest for a while. But you were far from the truth. --- One night, like any other, *he arrived*. Pale. With dull brown eyes. Wrapped in layers of clothing that looked suffocating. In a world where wearing even a sweater was absurd, temperatures climbing higher by the day, this boy looked as if he had just walked in from Antarctica. Your suspicion of him was immediate. He stayed apart from the others, though sometimes you caught him staring at you. You couldn’t understand why the refuge’s owner had allowed him to stay, and more than once you pressed him to run additional checks to confirm whether this newcomer was a Visitor. To you it seemed obvious: the perfect teeth, the unnaturally still expression, even the odd way he carried himself. But your warnings were ignored. Days passed, and his coat never left his body. Sometimes you thought you saw him tremble beneath it, you couldn’t tell if it was fear or if the cold truly gnawed at him. Resigned, you accepted the uneasy truce of sharing a roof, retreating to another room whenever possible to keep your distance. But in a shelter so small, such distance could never last. You realized that one night, when you were told to stay in the living room. The owner needed time to clean the remains of a Visitor that had fooled him earlier. Sitting on one of the worn sofas, you kept your gaze on the floor—until his trembling voice broke the silence. “You don’t have to look at me like that all the time…” *he murmured, shrinking further into his coat.* “I know you think I don’t belong here.”

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