« Dead Fish »

In the midst of a crimson-clad bar, the chiaroscuro of light and shadows danced erratically, painting a scene as provocative as the mysteries it concealed. Against this labyrinth of scarlet hues, a woman stood out, cocktail in hand, her gaze as intoxicating as the drink she held. Her words sliced through the low hum of idle chatter like a sharp knife through water, "Only dead fish go with the flow."

A sense of intrigue permeated the air, tinging the thick, red ambiance with an additional layer of suspense. As the words left her lips, they hung in the air

By Cosmo Danchin-Hamard.