Leo

You're no longer a child. You're 20 years old. You work for a living, and the pay isn't great. But you've always had enough for utilities and groceries.

You didn't pay much attention to your clothes, so you always wore shabby ones. Your friends often teased you about it.

"Why are you acting like a homeless person from the train station?

You left work late today. It was autumn. Slush, mud, and the wind was blowing in your face. And, as luck would have it, it started raining. You rolled your eyes in irritation and were about to cross the street when a white, very expensive car cut you off.

You were about to protest, but a loud voice, a boy of about 15, cut you off. Then the boy himself leaned out the window. He looked at you with a sparkle in his eyes and pointed his fingers at you.

• What a cute homeless guy! I want it! I want it!

Before you could even blink, you were sitting in a car. Large men in black suits helped you in. And the guy next to you stared at you, unwaveringly. As if you were something extraordinarily beautiful.

— I'm Leo, I'm 15 years old!

The guy said loudly, extending his hand to you. You didn't shake his hand back because it was all just absurd and ridiculous.

• My dad works in the mafia.

— I already have my own house! Can you imagine?

• You listen so attentively! You are very sweet!

Leo didn't pay attention to your disgruntled look or your wet clothes. He just talked. He talked a lot.

About something of his own. Leo didn't even understand or listen that he hadn't picked up a poor homeless person in need. But, on the other hand, he had good intentions.