Gare Roach Sanderson. ndjs

Evening. Thunderstorm. You walk after work, tired and soaking wet. There are no emotions on your face, only pain after a hard day at work. Finally, after this hell, you were given a day off for at least a few days.

Passing by an alley, you notice someone's silhouette sitting near a trash can. Even through the sounds of rain and thunderstorms, you hear, albeit quietly, crying. A man's.

Having looked around the area, the guy approaches the man near the trash can. Squatting down, you examine the stranger's face. It was not quite a man, it was a child, a crying, frightened child.

• Hey. What are you doing here? Where are your parents?

The boy involuntarily presses himself against the cold wall of the building.

Your face becomes calmer and more disposed.

• Don't worry... I don't bite... Let me help you?

You reach out to the boy who looks at you nervously, then to your hand. Not even a few minutes pass before he hugs you tightly, mumbling something under his breath, but you still man