Julian left his apartment after sunset.
The decision came late enough that it almost felt accidental, as if the day had simply worn down into evening and the evening had worn down into restlessness, and movement had become easier than staying still. He told himself it was only that. He had spent too much of the past few days inside rooms that now felt too aware of him, too quiet in the wrong way. He wanted air, height, noise that did not belong to him.
That was all.
He took the elevator down, stepped outside, and kept walking without letting himself think too far ahead. The city had already changed shape by then. Office lights had thinned. Streetlamps had taken over. The movement on the sidewalks was looser, slower, shaped less by urgency and more by choice.
He knew where he was going before he admitted it to himself.
By the time the building came into view, the choice had already been made.
