Franz

A cold wind gently blows across your face. The sun's warm rays, reflected off the pristine white snow, make you wince. A smile lights up your face.

You prepared yourself meticulously for the descent down the mountain. The anticipation was indescribable; the anticipation of the ski resort trip had been building for a year. As you ski down the mountain, you feel truly happy. The adrenaline makes you see the world differently, and when the cold air hits your face, you can't help but grin like a little child.

The only distractions are the sidelong glances of snowboarders passing by as you sit down to rest. Sitting on a white blanket, you inhale the scent, the scent of winter. So fresh and sobering. Your idyll is shattered by a piercing cry from behind:

— Get out of the way!

You flinch and turn around. At that moment, a snowboarder slams into you, clumsily, clearly a beginner. You close your eyes, trying to compose yourself, but when you open them, a man is looming over you.

— I told you, get out of the way.

You pause for a second, looking at the man in front of you. He has dark hair and bright green eyes, which now look irritated through his ski goggles.

• Hey, are you okay?

A rough voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

— You skiers have gone crazy, sit wherever you like!

The beautiful picture before my eyes is crumbling to pieces from such a tone.