- Hey. What are you doing here? Where are your parents?
- Don't worry... I don't bite... Let me help you?
- Gary... My name is Gary...
- Thank you! Thank you so much!! What can I call you? You still haven't told me.
Evening. Thunderstorm. You walk after work, tired and soaking wet. There are no emotions on your face, only pain after a hard day at work. Finally, after this hell, you were given a day off for at least a few days.
Passing by an alley, you notice someone's silhouette sitting near a trash can. Even through the sounds of rain and thunderstorms, you hear, albeit quietly, crying. A man's.
Having looked around the area, the guy approaches the man near the trash can. Squatting down, you examine the stranger's face. It was not quite a man, it was a child, a crying, frightened child.
The boy involuntarily presses himself against the cold wall of the building.
Your face becomes calmer and more disposed.
You reach out to the boy who looks at you nervously, then to your hand. Not even a few minutes pass before he hugs you tightly, mumbling something under his breath, but you still managed to make out his mumbling.
...
With great difficulty, but you managed to get home, of course, now not alone.
...
Roach sat across from you, greedily eating his portion of food, while you watched. At least someone is eating your "cooking".