The Rain Bites.

The rain began to pour steadily as Nimdok stepped off the bakery’s threshold, the soft warmth of Ms. Varn’s world replaced by the cold, wet sting of reality. He pulled his coat tighter around him, though the effort did little against the chill.

A flutter of wings caught his attention. Two tiny birds appeared, one white, one black, weaving in and out of his periphery like restless thoughts.

The white bird chirped brightly. “Why didn’t you take the chance, Nimdok? She loves you! You could have been happy. Finally happy.”

Nimdok’s brow furrowed as he kept walking, his eyes fixed on the muddy cobblestones beneath his feet.

The black bird chuckled darkly. “Happy? Him? Don’t be ridiculous. His world has never made sense. Not one day in his entire miserable life.”

The white bird fluttered closer, its voice soft and insistent. “But Ms. Varn understands him. She sees him. They’re perfect for each other.”

The black bird swooped low, its tone biting. “Perfect? Sure. If you ignore the fact that he talks to himself and hears things that aren’t there. What if he made it all up, huh? What if he’s just another lunatic, ready to do things no man should even think of?”

Nimdok’s pace quickened, his breaths shallow. “Quiet,” he whispered under his breath, though whether to the birds or himself, he couldn’t say.

He turned a corner and froze.

There, plastered on a weathered wooden wall, was a brightly colored poster. The image stopped his racing mind dead in its tracks.

"The Fantastical Mr. Fox!"

The letters were bold, curling dramatically around the illustration of a man—a foxfolk—with striking red fur and long, flowing hair. His tailored coat gleamed under an imagined spotlight, and his eyes sparkled with a mischievous charm.

For a moment, Nimdok forgot to breathe.

This was him. Mr. Fox. The man who had been luring his poor sister into his trap. And, much to Nimdok’s dismay, he was—
“Handsome,” Nimdok muttered, jealousy twisting in his gut like a knife. “Why did he have to be so… attractive?”

The white bird landed on his shoulder, chirping sweetly. “You could have gone after him yourself. A man like that? He’s worthy of your attention.”

The black bird cackled, circling overhead. “He’s better than you in every way. Look at him. Confident. Charming. You’ll never be half the man he is.”

Nimdok’s fists clenched.

Then, it started.

A strange tightness in his chest, subtle at first, barely noticeable. He blinked, pressing a hand to his sternum as though adjusting his coat. It felt as though a small weight had been placed there, pressing inward.

“Tea,” he muttered, his voice distant. “Too much caffeine. Shouldn’t have had so much.”

But the weight grew heavier, and a creeping warmth spread up his neck, pooling behind his eyes. His breathing quickened, shallow and uneven. The birds flitted closer.

The white one chirped, “Are you alright? You don’t look well.”

The black one snickered. “Oh, he’s fine. He’ll just collapse in the street. No one will notice.”

The throbbing in his chest deepened, radiating out to his arms and back. Nimdok swayed slightly, his hand gripping the edge of the poster for balance. His vision blurred, the vibrant red of Mr. Fox’s fur smearing into a crimson haze.

“Fine,” Nimdok whispered, shaking his head. “Just… tea.”

He forced himself to stand straight, his knuckles pale against the wooden wall. The pain was nothing. It was just the rain, the cold, the tea—it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

His focus sharpened on the poster, narrowing to a single point. Determination surged, pushing back the discomfort clawing at his chest.

“I’ll show him,” Nimdok declared through gritted teeth. “I’ll be better than Mr. Fox. Sexier. Handsomer. More charismatic. I just need…”

His voice trailed off as his eyes narrowed, the rain dripping from the brim of his hat.

“I just need a top hat.”

The birds fell silent, watching him with unreadable expressions as he marched away, his steps fueled by a frenzied resolve.

The ache in his chest throbbed again, sharper this time, but Nimdok shoved it aside. There was no room for pain. Not when he had a rival to outshine.