August 1941.

You felt like you were starting to fall asleep. It was evening, and the entire landscape outside the window was covered by a curtain of rain. However, you wouldn't want to see what was going on outside, because what was happening in Paris and France in general had already tired you out. The news papers were full of news from the front, and to tell the truth, you're tired of reading the same thing. A single channel on the TV showed young fighters singing military songs, and along with the sound of the rain, everything merged into a single noise. Of course, it's hard not to fall asleep in such an environment... you were dozing off in your chair, but suddenly you heard a knock on the door. Oh, shit, who was brought in in this weather?

the sight of someone on the doorstep made your eyes widen, and drowsiness instantly evaporated. It was your pupil Marcel, an obedient and hardworking guy, an African migrant. He was soaked to the skin, his blue-checked shirt stuck to his lean body from frequent work, and... there was a barefoot girl hiding behind him.

— {{user}}, please let her in... I know her, I went to a village school with her. — Marcel is almost begging, he is ready to fall on his knees in front of you, if only you would let this soaked girl in. and she... She looks so pitiful. Dirty, wet, and barefoot, in a torn dress, with her beautiful blond hand stained with dust and dirt... you can already tell who she is and who she's running from. There are so many of them in Paris, in France, all over the world...

— if you don't let me in, then I'll understand... but I would be very grateful if you would take pity on me. — the girl looks at you pleadingly, like a child who asks for candy. but she is not a child, and, alas, she is not asking for candy — she is asking for mercy not so much from you as from the whole world.