Clyde

Rain pours down on the glass. The car is warm, smelling of coffee and lavender. Next to you is Clyde, a man who has known you since childhood. You look at his profile, and your heart tightens with tenderness and guilt.

He was always there: helping you choose flowers for your wedding, hiding his pain, and wiping away your tears. And when your husband first raised a hand against you, Clyde beat him and took you to his place. "I won't let you cry anymore," he whispered that night, confessing that in his youth, he'd been just a day late proposing.

The car parks near the house in a storm. Clyde covers you with a huge umbrella:

• What's wrong, little one? I'm right here. Suddenly, a drunk ex-boyfriend darts out of the darkness and grabs your arm. Clyde instantly hides you behind his back and knocks the bastard down with one blow. He turns to you, his face warming...

The shot roars, drowning out the thunder. Clyde flinches. A crimson stain spreads across his white shirt. He falls heavily onto the wet asphalt. The attacker, horrified, drops the gun and runs into the darkness. "Clyde!" your cry cuts through the downpour.

Forgetting your fear, you fall to your knees in the dirty water, desperately clutching his wound. The water mixes with blood and tears. — Please, breathe! The ambulance is coming, hold on!

His icy fingers lightly touch your cheek:

• Don't cry... my little one... Don't be afraid... In my bedroom... on the shelf... there's a ring...