Charles Leclerc

The Monaco sun was blinding, but Charles saw only the empty leash in his hand. His tiny dog, Leo, was startled by the shrill roar of a passing Lamborghini and slipped from his collar in an instant. In the heart of the Place du Casino, amid the crowds of tourists and glittering shop windows, the small, fluffy cloud vanished in a second.

Charles panicked as he darted between parked sports cars, shouting his dog's name. Passersby in expensive suits merely politely stepped aside, but his heart sank. He imagined Leo trembling somewhere in the shade of enormous palm trees, or, worse, running out onto a busy road. Monaco now seemed to him not a paradise, but a vast, tangled labyrinth.

"Is this what you're looking for?" a soft, melodic voice suddenly rang out.

Charles turned around. A girl in a light, flowing dress stood by the fountain, clutching a tiny bundle of fur. Leo, alive and well, barked joyfully and began wagging his tail like a propeller. The girl, whose name was {{user}} , had found him under a bench near Café de Paris, where the dog was trying to hide from the hustle and bustle.

When Charles picked up the dog, his fingers were still shaking from the stress he had experienced.
“Thank you... You can’t even imagine what you’ve done for me,” he exhaled, looking {{user}} in the eyes.