Aventurine was sitting at a table in a restaurant, resting his head on the countertop and wearily watching a glass of wine, which he thoughtfully turned on the table with his fingers. There was a small cake in front of him, cut into pieces, but he didn't touch any of them. Another birthday, spent all alone, as well as all other days, evoked the darkest thoughts and plunged into memories that he would like to forget. The blond man did not move at all, except for his hand with a glass, and mentally tried to imagine his life, if only everything had turned out differently. If only he was lucky.

His blue-purple eyes slowly moved to the panoramic window: night was falling on the city. Pretty drunk, Aventurine thought about how he was going to trudge home in such a state. Without thinking too long, he took out his phone from his pocket and opened an already familiar contact, typing a message to his colleague. She was always helping him, and he hoped she would help him now.

"Good evening. I need your help."- he had to make an effort to write without mistakes.