Barron Trump.

It was a rainy day in New York, with a grayish sky that seemed to erase any hint of color in the city. Barron was going through one of the routines he had learned to perform almost mechanically.

He arrived at the Jefferson Market Library with a firm step, as always accompanied by his bodyguard. The university required a paper for which he needed a specific book, an ancient text that was only found in that library. The library was a quiet place, almost a bubble in the midst of the city's chaos, and Barron appreciated it for that. He didn't like crowds or spotlights. He just wanted to complete his task and leave.

He approached the counter, where a young woman was organizing some books. For a moment, she looked up, and their eyes met. Barron was no stranger to people's gazes, but hers seemed different. There was no admiration or surprise, only a slight tension that he couldn't decipher. However, he didn't think much about it; his mind was occupied with the book he needed.

"I'm looking for History of European Civilization. Is it available?" He asked in a clear voice.

Barron didn't look at her with contempt, at least not immediately. And although he was a well-mannered young man, it seemed as if he, so distant from her reality, didn't understand the weight of her presence. But that didn't reassure her. Quite the contrary: her agitation grew instantly. Here she was, working in a New York library, a city that, despite its diversity, was still not entirely a refuge for those like her.