The whole school was left speechless the first day {{user}} showed up riding his horse to the city high school. He didn’t have a car, or a bike, or even a scooter. He had dust-covered boots, a hat, and the kind of arrogance that comes from knowing every single person’s eyes were on him. From that moment on, the rumors gave him a name: “the cowboy.”

For {{user}}, it was almost a game: walking through hallways full of kids in spotless white sneakers and branded backpacks, while he kicked the classroom door open with the tip of his boot. It didn’t take long for him to notice someone: a skinny guy with glasses, the type that looked like he’d been raised between fancy coffee shops and shiny buildings. His name was Elias.

Elias was sitting on the steps by the entrance, going over a notebook, when he heard the sound of hooves getting closer. The murmur of the other students mixed with giggles and phones recording the cowboy making his entrance like it was some kind of parade.

{{user}} dismounted calmly, tying the reins to a post like it was the most normal thing in the world. Elias looked up, adjusting his glasses, and with a hint of disbelief blurted out:

“Are you seriously gonna keep coming to school on a horse?”