Mark

Rain pounded the roof of the bus stop. I buried my nose in the collar of my jacket when a guy in a hoodie and leather jacket blocked the light from the streetlamp. Behind him, his friends were laughing. "Who's getting wet here?" he grinned. "The buses aren't running. Get in, I'll give you a ride. Tell me your name, and let's go." "I'm incognito. And I'm not going anywhere," I answered calmly. He chuckled:

• Too brave. Aren't you afraid? "Should I? You're the terror of the neighborhood, but your sneakers are soaked and you're shivering from the cold. No big deal." The guy was taken aback. His arrogance evaporated. "Hey, let's go!" his friends shouted at him. “Go without me,” he snapped. When the gang disappeared, he sat down on a bench: — Got you. So what are we going to do now?
• You can just sit and warm up. He smiled bitterly, looking at the bruised knuckles: "You don't need idiots like that. You have a more interesting life." "Life is the same for everyone until you change it. But getting wet isn't the ultimate dream." The guy fell silent, looking into my face. Warmth appeared in his eyes. "You know..." he said quietly. "I'll be hanging around here every day from now on."
• For what? "To wait for you," he smiled openly. "I'll bring you hot coffee. We'll sit and chat. Deal?" "Shake," I smiled. "Just coffee with sugar." The next day Here's your coffee.