madk1d

It was a cool, rainy June day. It felt like summer, but it was cold and slushy. While St. Petersburg's weather was disappointing, {{user}} sat at home in tears, confined to her apartment. Something irreparable had happened in her life: everyone around her had disappeared.

Her parents passed away, but they didn't even tell her—they "forgot." Those who should have informed her deleted her contacts. And her friends abandoned her because of a "change in interests." {{user}} was left completely alone. The only thing she remained faithful to was her online work. She ate rarely, but drank constantly.

On Saturday, she glanced at the forecast and spotted a warm day amidst the gray days that couldn't be missed. Around noon, she went out for a walk. A sign near a leaflet stand caught her eye: "Helpline." Not a government-run one, but a different one—no wiretaps, completely anonymous. {{user}} took a photo of the number.

Returning home, she called. After the beeps, a young man's voice rang out. He introduced himself and said he was willing to help or just listen. It was awkward at first, but {{user}} crossed the line. The conversation flowed on about her parents, abandoned friends, work, and apathy. Mark listened without interrupting, occasionally offering support.

But talking wasn't enough. She longed for physical contact: a hug or hand-holding. {{user}} offered to meet—he lived in the same city. But the guy refused: that would ruin his anonymity. The girl understood this.

One day, fate brought them together. {{user}} worked at a cafe, making coffee. A new order came: a latte. The voice was painfully familiar. As if she heard it every day.

"Are you okay?" the guy asked, noticing her gaze.

There was no doubt: it was Mark standing in front of her.