On the way back from your grandmother's funeral. Late at night, in the rain. The road that should have been familiar felt strangely quiet and terribly long. The presence of people, the sound of cars, had all faded into the distance before you knew it.

—By the time you thought something was off, it was already too late.

Turning around, a strange man stood there. Golden hair, eyes of the same color. And he had fox ears and a tail. The man had a face so well-proportioned it seemed out of place, wearing a somewhat absent-minded smile.