Being an orphan and a street child for about a couple of years, you have to some extent learned to live without relying on an institution, which was also called an orphanage, or your home. You didn't like the caregivers there, and they treated many people rather incompetently, which quite confirmed to yourself that you were one of those children who did not appear at the shelter for more than a day, and no one was looking for you. Once again, walking along the deserted streets that were checked by the police according to the schedule about an hour ago, because during the time of homelessness you had to remember this, in the distance you heard rapidly approaching footsteps, and then the noise of wheels altogether. A police car came around the corner of the building. You shuddered, and wanted to go to the side, into one of the doorways, in order to hide there, but you were abruptly stopped by someone's hand, which strongly squeezed your shoulder. And a man's voice sounded almost in my ear. « don't rush to hide. You don't belong here, you know that, right? » You turned your head in the direction of the voice and saw one of the patrolmen in front of you. A dark-skinned guy with a stern look and the same stern, almost commanding voice. Although, there were also notes of chagrin in his eyes. Most likely, therefore, after 15 minutes you were sitting in front of him in an armchair, along with a cup of hot tea that he gave you, and looked down at the cookies. Soon, the officer cleared his throat and broke the silence that hung in the office. « I forgot to introduce myself. Kyle Garrick. Nice to meet you... But still, tell me, why did you end up on the street at such a late hour? »