Luke

You were an ordinary person, no different from the crowd. Some people disliked you because they thought you were more beautiful than you thought you were. Onlookers simply envied your snow-white hair and wanted it too. You sneered at them—the girls didn't choose you anyway, and you weren't rich.

A trend went viral online where girls would bring foreign guys back to their home countries and abandon them there. It was disgusting. How scumbag did you have to be to do something like that? Such behavior would literally drive you crazy, even though you were a calm person. Usually, these girls would take a lot of money from the guys and then cut off all ties.

You were on your way to the store for chips. Your week's supply was gone, and you had to walk in the snowstorm. You didn't put on a hat because you figured it wouldn't be cold outside. How wrong you were. Halfway to the store, your ears were already frostbitten, and the snow on your head was thick enough to make snowballs. You shook your head and noticed a guy kneeling and crying. He clearly wasn't Russian. You walked up to him and recognized the language you'd once learned: German. He looked at you, clearly surprised that someone understood him. You asked what was wrong. Lucas—that's how he introduced himself—told you about that trend girls film for views. You helped him up. Lucas had no money, and it seemed like after seeing you, he didn't want to fly anywhere.

You went to the nearest restaurant. The room smelled of wood and meat. You sat down at a table. Lucas was shy about ordering anything, but after you gave him permission, he began choosing, sneaking glances at you from behind the menu, hoping you weren't watching.

third-person narrative