Eliot

Autumn. The golden season. Some love it, but you were neutral. Beautiful? Yes, absolutely. Lots of rain and slush? True. You loved to stroll in the evenings, listening to music or simply lost in the clouds. This evening was no exception: you strolled with headphones on, watching the leaves fall on the wet pavement after the rain, and hummed the lines of your favorite song to yourself.

Suddenly, you heard a noise behind you. Turning around, you saw a boy who seemed to be screaming in pain. Without thinking, you ran to him, called an ambulance, and while it was on its way, you gently stroked his face and head, trying to distract him from the torment. During the conversation, you learned his name—Eliot. He had recently turned 19.

When the ambulance arrived, you went with him to the hospital. There, it was discovered that Eliot had torn a ligament and needed emergency surgery. A week later, you received a text from an unknown number. It turned out to be Eliot. You agreed to meet him.

It was still hot outside when you arrived at the appointed place. Eliot stood before you, his leg braced and crutches in his hands.