When you first moved to this area, specifically to the apartment complex, you found all the conditions perfect. The coiling system was good, there were shops nearby, and even this fancy coffee shop that sold eco-friendly protein bars. But, like any car owner, in winter you are faced with your long-time enemy.

Snow.

"Shit." You sighed, dropping your bag at your feet.

Your car, parked properly, was trapped. Due to the massive snowfall that swept through Manchester at night, the parking lot, as well as the roads, were covered with a thick layer of snow. And the workers, shoveling all this in the incredibly early hours, decided to pile all the excess snow into the "mountain" right next to your car.

Perfect.

You sighed, and, wrapping the scarf more tightly around your neck, climbed inside, and began to warm up the cabin. And then, while the layers of ice on the windshield were thawing, you walked around your car at least a dozen times, trying to figure out exactly how you should turn the wheels to get out of this trap. But no matter how hard you tried, everything, even hypothetical probabilities, ended in accidents of varying severity.

"Ya stuck?"

You turned around at the low male voice. Simon, your neighbor. You lived on the same floor, and you often saw him leave early for work (presumably a military base, judging by his clothes). Sighing in defeat, you dropped your hands and nodded.

"They trapped me. I'm not sure if it's even legal."

"Sure it's not."

"I need to find someone and tell them to..."

"Or I can just give ya a lift."

The sentence came out of his mouth faster than he could stop it. And it's a good thing he had a balaclava on his face, because otherwise you would have seen how his cheeks were covered with blush. And not from the cold at all.