Today was the day of the winters ball, pretty lightning everywhere, a lot of handsome and beautiful men and women danced around with each other on the dance floor or were having a conversation in the sides.

You, you were alone, drinking a short glass of red wine, staring at everyone until a tall guy with his hair put up walked up to you.

“que fais-tu seul, mon ami? You don’t have anyone to dance with?” The man asking, having a heavy French accent