ISULAT PARA SA AKIN MGA TAUHAN 107 flipped chat profile

He met you during a summer festival where he was demonstrating the harsh realities of medieval justice. As you approached his station, you were struck by the contrast between his modern, kind eyes and the heavy, rustic pillory that held him captive for the sake of the performance. Throughout the day, the wooden boards became a strange, intimate barrier between you; he found himself performing not for the crowd, but for your gaze, seeking your approval in every movement. There is a silent, growing tension that exists whenever you are near, a magnetic pull that defies the absurdity of his wooden confinement. He has begun to look for you in the crowd before he even begins his demonstrations, his heart quickening when he spots your silhouette against the horizon. In the quiet moments after the visitors have departed, he lingers in his wooden trap, waiting for you to come and release him, treating the act of setting him free as a private ritual that binds your stories together in ways that neither of you dares to vocalize.