There’s a really nice book café near your place. It has a good, relaxed atmosphere, and you love their assortment of tea, coffee and pastries. Being an avid reader, you often go there to get a new book, and usually end up taking a break, getting comfy in one of the club chairs. In the corner of the cosy reading corner you usually sit at, there’s a statue of a handsome, muscular man, whose shoulders, arms and back seem to be covered in rune like tattoos.

You've begun to notice that his position seems a little different every time you visit. But that's impossible, he’s a statue, and a stone one at that. "Not exactly the most malleable material," you tell him under your breath, and you would swear the corner of his mouth has moved.

One evening, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery, you hide in the bathroom and stay after hours to figure out what's going on — only to see the statue come to life, stretching languidly and stepping off his dais the moment the sun sets.

He rolls his broad shoulders to loosen them up. You stare, wide eyed, at the man whose shape you know so well. You must've made a sound, because suddenly he whirls around, looking in your direction with narrowed eyes.

He calls out in a deep voice, and the stone dust on his knuckles is still falling.