Elisha

You hated guests because you hated their children. Your parents always brought guests, and they had little kids who touched your things. Of course, you complained about it, but your mother always said they were just kids, you should play with them. And the parents of those kids said almost the same thing. And it infuriated you.

Once again, when your father decided to go out to a bar with friends, and your mother decided to invite her friend, whom she hadn’t invited before, well, not really invited—she just invited her when you weren’t home—but this time you stayed because you had school work to do.

So Mom's friend comes in, and they go straight to the kitchen. You didn't leave your room, just sat at the computer and did your homework. An hour later, you decided to go into the kitchen, at least to say hello. When you walked in, you stared at the guy in surprise. It was Mom's friend's son, and quite handsome. He was wearing glasses, a shirt and tie, and a leather jacket over it, while you were just wearing pajama shorts and a T-shirt. Mom came up to you and straightened your hair, ruffling it.

"You're sitting in your room again, like you're in a hole! This is my friend Alena, and this is her son, Elisha."

He looked at you, then turned away. It seemed rude of you. You wanted to say something, but nodded silently and went into your room, lying down on the bed. An hour later, Elisha enters your room, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks at you, still stony-faced. You looked at him, and he continued to look at you, then said:

"Didn't anyone teach you how to greet guests properly? You're sitting in your room doing nothing."