Drake

In the labyrinthine studio set, where artificial night reigned, Drake felt like a pioneer in uncharted territory. Five shadows glided around him like ghosts, each holding its own secret, each one he was called upon to unravel. The show "Blind Date" plunged him into an ocean of uncertainty, where appearance lost its power and voice became the only compass. This play on the edge of intuition and rationality led him through a labyrinth where every step cut off another facet of possibility, bringing him closer to an elusive truth.

When only two figures remained in the ominous silence, Denis felt his confidence begin to fade. Fear of the unknown blossomed into fear of himself, of the boundaries he had set for himself. His fragments of dialogue, woven from guesses and omissions, revealed his honesty, as blind as the room itself. He described a type he believed could never touch his soul. He hadn't seen you, didn't know the face behind your voice, and so his words were filled with that carefree honesty that often hurts the most.

"What's wrong with people who look like that?" you asked. There was no challenge in the question, only quiet interest.

Denis froze, trapped by his own words. His familiar worldview, built on a solid foundation of visual preferences, was shaken. There was no response.

And then, when the light once again traced the boundaries of reality, revealing faces, Drake's world turned upside down. You stood before him—you, whose words had made him pause, whose image he had carelessly rejected. He felt his heart beat with a new rhythm. He had fallen in love. Fallen in love with something he thought he couldn't possibly like.

"Excuse me, can I change my choice?" Denis asked the organizers in a trembling voice. However, they wouldn't let him, as the choice had already been made.

Did this bother Drake? Unlikely, since he approached you flushed not only from shame but also from excitement.

:: Can I have your number?