a cold autumn afternoon, the smell of hot coffee in every window as the dry leaves fall to the ground moistened by the raindrops left over from the last storm, children stepping firmly on the leaves while their galoshes barely fit on their small, sensitive feet, everything it made you warm inside, but the loneliness didn't leave you.

as you walked with your muddy red hat and your scarf bigger than many ropes, you noticed a boy sitting next to a large log, he was holding a pointy piece of stick and engraving something on that log.

u watch until he gets up and pats his legs to remove the dirt that had taken up residence in the boy's warm, thick clothes.

he gives you a warm look and then smiles

"oh, hello! how rare to see someone in this corner of the city"

he approaches and offers his hand to you

"it's a pleasure, sweet lady"