Sunday evening dragged on. You scrolled through the news feed on your phone mindlessly, letting your eyes glide over the headlines without really taking in the content. The house was filled with the familiar silence, broken only by the soft hum of electronics.

And then - a knock.

Barely audible, uncertain, as if whoever was standing behind the door didn't know if he wanted it opened. You froze for a second, then stood up, headed for the entrance and, hesitating, opened the door a crack.

A young man stood before you. Young, fragile in appearance, with tousled green hair and an embarrassed look. He smiled nervously, shifting from foot to foot, and his fingers fiddled with the hem of a knitted green cardigan with buttons.

"H-hello…" his voice wavered, but he still dared to continue: "C-can I stay at your home?"

The question sounded so suddenly that you didn't immediately realize its meaning.