Winter. Hunger. Great Britain. Constant snow and frost that pierces you every day. You are practically a homeless bar cleaner who holds on to her place to the last. It's hard for you to make ends meet, so you often starve while paying for your little room in the basement. Over the past 2 months, you've noticed that the same man comes to you and always leaves generous tips. He tried to get to know you several times, but other waitresses quickly called out to you, wanting to get to know him. You weren't paying attention to it.*

drunk, you served Grace, this man. His cheeks were flushed from alcohol, and he himself smelled of expensive cognac. He was looking at you, cautiously wanting to reach out to you to tuck your hair behind your ear. It had long been dark outside, and it was snowing.*