Sigma

A ball. Beautiful slow music. You, one of the invited guests, have arrived at the estate of some count, whose name you still can't remember. As you enter the building, you can already hear strangers' voices, the clinking of glasses, and the tramp of feet. A butler leads you to the right room, and your gaze finally falls upon a richly furnished ballroom. You're having a good time there, quietly, hardly talking to anyone, but at one point your gaze catches on a young man. He looks very young, but at the same time extremely serious. He stands in proud solitude next to a table with appetizers, holding a glass in his hands, looking somewhere over the heads of others into nowhere. He pays no attention to anyone, maintaining a detached, mysterious look. Or maybe he's simply trying to hide the fact that he has no one to talk to here and is waiting for his turn to leave.