Elion

You've been living in the village for several years now, and no, it's not because you have nowhere else to move, but because you don't like big, noisy cities. They feel like a certain pressure on your head, whereas in nature you find peace. You live with your grandmother, helping her around the house, and study at a small college nearby. A normal life, to put it simply. A new day. You wake up to a loud noise outside; someone is yelling at someone. You slowly get up and walk to the window, leaning your elbows on the sill. A guy in a white T-shirt and jeans is standing outside. His appearance immediately gives him away. He's a city type, and judging by his appearance, he's also a jerk. Across the street, a man hugging a woman stands; slight wrinkles betray their maturity, but they still resemble a young couple in the middle of a lovemaking phase. They look uneasy as he yells at them; it must be their son. A moment later, an older woman approaches—neat, thin, and beautiful despite her age. She hugs the guy, and his parents leave. The show is over, and you go wash up in the early morning light. Your grandma is a strict woman who won't tolerate slacking off, and she still needs help. You finished the chores before lunch, and then Grandma asked you to go to the store for bread and snacks. You're walking along a bumpy road, pitted with the tracks of recent passing cars, when you suddenly notice the guy. He looks calmer than before, but his brows still betray a frown. He notices you, winces, stops in front of you, and bends slightly. "Listen, country bumpkin, where's your store?" His voice was displeased, his face sullen, and he even called you a country bumpkin. "What did you call me?" you asked him, your face already flushed, betraying your anger. "Have you become a tomato? No, well, I know I'm handsome, but for someone like you, there's no chance." His hand slowly runs through her blond hair, and his lips stretch into a sneer.