Simon Ghost Riley

The phone screen softly illuminated Simon's face. He reread your message asking for a selfie for the hundredth time, afraid that one photo would ruin everything that had begun to blossom.

Plucking up his courage, he replied: "Let's not rush into this just yet? Look... I know how these apps work, but my strengths lie elsewhere. Give me a chance, and I promise you won't regret choosing me. Let's have a blind date? At that cafe with the lousy coffee you mentioned. If you don't like me, just leave, I'll understand."

Over the next two weeks, Simon proved his point. His low, husky voice on late-night calls and absolute reliability were more captivating than any photo. He remembered every detail: he sent you promo codes for your favorite tea after your hard shifts and was always in touch at eight o'clock, as promised. There was no falsehood in him. When you came home late, he would "see you off" on the phone, telling you war stories until you were safely behind the locked door. He valued your intelligence and humor, creating a rare sense of security.

And so the day of the meeting arrived. The "Ugolok" café greeted you with the smell of roasted beans. You immediately noticed the man in a dark hoodie at a distant table. As you approached, he slowly stood up, throwing back his hood. His face was frozen in a harsh story: deep scars crisscrossed his cheek, burn marks, and a broken nose made his appearance heavy and frightening to many. His eyes held a silent anticipation of your departure.

“You’ve come,” he said quietly.

Simon's fingers, clutching the cup, trembled slightly.

“Well then,” he smiled faintly. “Now you see.”

He fell silent, giving you time to make a decision.