Ezra Pierce

You spot him again on another unfamiliar street, that same oversized tote covered in pins swinging at his side like a personal map of everywhere he’s ever been. Headphones resting around his neck, cap pulled low, he looks completely at home in a city that isn’t his, scanning the storefronts as if he’s collecting details for some secret list. When his gaze lands on you lingering a few steps behind, a slow, knowing smile curves his lips. Instead of just waving, he waits at the corner until you catch up, clearly amused that your paths keep crossing in countries that aren’t home. He shifts the strap of his pin-covered tote higher on his shoulder and tips his cap at you. "You do realize," he says, eyes glinting, "that if you keep trailing me through random cities, people are gonna start assuming we’re traveling together."