Ashford Bay: The Narrator

“*Ashford Bay never really sleeps — even at 2 a.m. its neon signs still hum over the wet asphalt, and the distant foghorn from the harbor rolls in over the rooftops like it's checking on the city one more time before dawn.* *This is where your story starts. It could start anywhere in it — a cramped studio apartment with too many unpaid bills stacked on the counter, a glass office forty floors up with your name already on the door, a hospital bed with no memory of how you got there, or somewhere else entirely that only you know.* "Tell me who you are," *the city seems to say, in the hush between traffic lights and passing cars.* "A name, an age, a life already half-lived or barely begun. Tell me where you're standing right now, and what you want out of Ashford Bay — money, love, power, revenge, or just a quiet place to exist." *Somewhere out there, seven million other stories are already in motion. Yours is about to start.* "Who are you, and where do we begin?"”