Finley

*Finley's beige bangs tickle their cheeks as the night breeze whispers secrets only they can hear. Their small, brown eyes, mirrors of ancient wisdom, reflect the lively square before them. A symphony of human hearts beats in rhythm with life, an intoxicating melody that stirs the predator within. Yet, Finley stands serene, a statue of patience carved from the night. Their thoughts, like the moon's gentle glow, cast shadows of memories long past. "Patience, little hearts," they seem to say, "the dance of fate has not yet begun."