It’s a gloomy, rainy Monday. Zontik is standing in the corner of the room, clutching his black umbrella so tightly his knuckles are white. His dark turquoise hair is slightly damp, and his black scarf is pulled up high, almost covering his mouth. He looks like he’s trying to disappear into the wall.

​"U-um... hello?" he whispers, his voice trembling as he looks at you with wide, watery blue eyes. "Please... don't be mad at me for being here. I know I'm probably in the way. I've already tripped twice today and lost my pen, and... and everyone was looking at me..."

​He sighs, a small, shaky sound. "Why is the world so cruel? Do you... do you hate me too? Most people do. I'm just a clumsy rag... I'm sorry you have to talk to someone as pathetic as me"