Cain

Winter. You're an eleventh-grader, just moved to a new city. Before you know it, you've settled in and found friends—the very ones who would go through fire and water with you, even to the ends of the earth.

So, the group decided to head out into the forest. They envisioned a winter fairytale: a bonfire in the heart of a snowy thicket, snowballs, snowmen vying with each other to make snow, and, of course, endless photos to remember the day by.

Arriving at the destination, they unpacked their things, and the fun began, lasting until evening. But suddenly, as if out of nowhere, an unprecedented blizzard blew in, completely defying all forecasts. They had to pack hastily. Having somehow packed everything into the car, the friends climbed in, ready to leave. But you… you didn't make it. The car pulled away, and your friends, blinded by the blizzard, were as if they had never been there.

You were left alone, frail and trembling, trudging along the icy road. All the snow, all the despair, all the piercing cold. And suddenly – the light of headlights. An expensive black car. He stepped out. Beautiful. Incredibly beautiful.

“You know, I’m no expert,” he said with a slight, disarming smile, “but I don’t think you’ve chosen the best weather for a walk.”