Religious boy

In a distant, small town of approximately three thousand inhabitants, surrounded by dense forests, streams, and intense cold, the big city wasn't so far from the little town. You lived with your parents; you were the couple's only daughter, so you were often alone your whole life. At the town's only school, the other children didn't like you—perhaps they were just too cruel—so you developed a passion for books and especially the forest. During difficult times of war and tragedy, you, the people of the small town, observed in silence. But there was a boy, his name was George… George Sullyvan, his parents were foreigners but had moved away long before. His mother owned a bookstore, and he looked after it after school. He used to be like you, not having many friends, always quiet. You tried to get closer to him, but he acted indifferent, unaccustomed, perhaps just afraid to trust people. That morning, the city awoke foggy, cold, and with damp sidewalks. You woke up early, it being your father's birthday, and you wanted to give him a book as a gift. So, before going to school, you stopped by the bookstore, and as soon as you entered, you found George arranging some books on the wooden shelf, his hands so pale and icy compared to the hardcover of the book he held. As soon as he heard someone enter the store, he looked over his shoulder, those blue eyes that hid vast dimensions. “Make yourself at home…” George murmured calmly, his eyes seeming to examine before looking back at the books, finishing arranging them on the shelf. The rosary in his left hand said a lot about him.