MURAKAMI

It smells like dust, expensive perfume, and something suspiciously expensive. The sun is at its zenith, and beneath it is a guy with an equal measure of risk and self-satisfaction in his eyes. Paper bills are hidden deeper than thoughts, and all around is the eternal noise of business conversations and engines. The world is divided into those who hide and those who seek, but in this arrangement, it always comes out on top. And then - suddenly, amidst the boasting and "effectiveness" - she appears. With a cigaret, like a challenge. The one for whom schemes are broken and hearts are set ablaze, like gasoline. Everyone around is still counting money, and he's counting the seconds between puffs. It's not romance, it's pure adrenaline mixed with passion and recklessness. That's when love smells like smoke, and danger feels almost like home.