#ahhh hope you like this

[somnimagus]

My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.

[id in alt text]

[erwinsvow]

Okay but shy/bunny reader being used to bestfriend!Rafe ditching her because he’s with some girl, she never points it out and somehow she always lets it go because she’s just a babyy and Rafe starts realising that they don’t hang out as much😭💖

it was hard seeing rafe go—always was, and always will be.

you tried to convince yourself you were used to it now, but the familiar ache in your chest when he'd say goodbye to you, topper, and kelce and walk away hand in hand with his flavor of the week was getting worse and worse.

before you'd realized you had feelings for rafe—beyond just the affection you gave to your close friends—you hadn't cared at all. you'd even encouraged it, same way you did with top and kelce, offering advice and recommending which flowers to bring, what places to bring them.

not that rafe ever really needed your help. it seems since the day he'd become your best friend, there was a line of girls hanging behind the two of you, seemingly waiting for their turn. at night, when it felt worse—and somehow it always did feel worse in your bed alone, wondering if rafe's was empty too and knowing that it wasn't—you tried to make yourself feel better.

you're still here, and they're not—that's how you tried. it worked for a little.

the newest girl had been around for a record three weeks, so even your usual bandaid for your shattered heart wasn't helping the wound heal.

so far, he'd skipped two meals, a day at the course, and half of a boat day to spend with her instead of you. you, kelce, and top that is. you'd hoped today was going to be different, walking back to top's jeep after lunch to head to the marina.

"you're not coming?" you call out to rafe, who was walking back in the direction of his own car. kelce and top are too far away to hear—getting into the front already. you were always stuck in the back, and you had never minded when rafe was there to keep you company.

rafe flicks his eyes over you, taking in the new dress you really shouldn't have bought just to see what kind of reaction you could get from him. your bag has your bikini in it and one of his button ups to cover you and he sees it poking out—white seersucker temporarily distracting him.

"rafe?"

"yeah. sorry, no. made plans with-"

"yeah, of course you did." you cut him off, and though even a few weeks ago you couldn't have imagined the vitriol in your voice, it comes out all too easy. "have fun."

you try to walk away but his footsteps follow—and damn his long legs, because he gets infront of you before you can escape.

"what, kid? you mad at me?"

you shouldn't say something. you shouldn't say anything.

"we're going to the boat. you said you were coming. i cut fruit for you."

"i-i'm sorry. top will eat it."

"it's not for him. that's not the point." the words teeter on the edge—wanting so badly to tell him that you miss him. that he never hangs out with you anymore, that he's choosing some girl over you and it stings worse than anything you've felt so far.

you're not sure when it started feeling so different—rafe's always done this. and standing two feet from the jeep, kelce sticking his head out the window to yell at you to get in, you realize you're going to reveal yourself if you don't shut up.

"have fun, rafe. sorry. bye."

you don't give him a chance to respond, but it doesn't take anything else for the gears to click. you're too quiet to ever admit it, too shy to say what you're really thinking, and rafe knows that—he's known it since he met you.

standing there, watching you drive away with kelce and top, he briefly wonders what the last time was he did something just with you. he can't even remember it. it all blurs together—late night runs for ice cream and breakfast while top and kelce were still passed out. the sweet way you smile at him and how your expression changes when he goes to the girl who's waiting for him. he gets in the car and can't decide which direction to turn—towards this girl or towards you.

on the boat, you kick up your feet and open your book, trying to drown out the chatter of kelce and top trying to get out of the marina and focus singularly on the romance in your hands rather than the one in your brain. you drown it out a little too much.

"that the one i got you?" rafe asks from somewhere next to you.

"god-" you exclaim, book slipping from your grip and thudding on the boat. "you scared me." catching your breath, you bend to pick up your book, but rafe beats you to it, picking it up and placing it on your lap.

"sorry."

"what happened to your plans?" rafe shrugs. you wish your heartbeat would slow down. you look down at your lap and rafe looks over you—exposed skin shiny with sunblock, a blue bikini he thinks he's never noticed before, matching nails that suit you.

"already had plans with you, remember?"

[pprodsuga]

i’m serious about you

summary: gojo realizes just how much he likes you when you go on your first date

note: feeling a bit soft for gojo rn so pls enjoy this little scenario…it’s 2am and i just wanna write something before i go to bed <3 gojo is probably a little ooc but this is my blog so!!!

i’m a lil rusty when ur comes to writing fics but i hope u enjoy!

warnings: fluff fluff fluff + she/her pronouns

masterlist :)

“I’m surprised this place is open so late.”

You mutter absentmindedly as you look at the pastries behind the glass, face at a respectable distance while Gojo stands beside you. He leans down to see what you see, his own eye catching the chocolate cake sitting on the top shelf.

“Nanami told me about it a while ago,” he explains. “Says he likes to come here when he can’t sleep since they’re open so late.”

“Do you like this bakery?”

Gojo watches as you pick and choose which pastries you want to try. The girl behind the counter lifts her gaze to him, eyes widening before averting her gaze to the small box in her hands.

“Haven’t tried it, actually,” Gojo says. He rubs the back of his neck when you turn around. “I, uh, wanted to wait. To try it with you, I mean.”

He sees your mouth morph into a shy smile and he can’t help but return it. Gojo turns and orders a beverage from the cashier, watching as her fingers fumble with the buttons before she relays the bill.

You’re about to pull out your wallet when Gojo reacts quicker than you can comprehend. You watch as he gives his credit card to the cashier without batting an eyelash. He laughs when you huff and grumble about being able to pay for the pastries since he paid for dinner, but he bumps his hips with yours and tells you it‘s on him.

You look so perfect under the awful fluorescent lights in your best dress and hair let down. He’s not used to seeing you like this; so carefree without your worries tucked away in that pretty little head of yours.

Gojo used to think he’d make it through life without relying on anyone and that he couldn’t count on other people for his own source of happiness and companionship. But he can’t deny there’s something about you that tugs at his heart strings a bit too aggressively.

This feeling follows him to the morning prior, when he asked you to accompany him to dinner. Gojo had guessed that you liked him more than you let on but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same. This new sensation in the pit of his stomach travels with him tonight, especially when he takes a step back to fully absorb the way you look in his jacket. It dwarfs your shorter stature yet Gojo thinks it was made for you to wear.

The girl behind the counter turns around to finish the order, leaving the two of you to your wits for the time being. Gojo senses that this—casual dating or otherwise—isn’t something you do often. He silently thanks Shoko for drilling him about you (likes, dislikes, who you are as a person aside from the so-called friend group you two belong in) because he sees your finger tapping against the side of your leg and decides to make a move.

“I really like spending time with you,” Gojo starts. “I could do this again and again if you let me.”

“Really?” you ask, sounding something akin to disbelief. Your dress follows your movements as you turn around but all Gojo can focus on is the way your cheeks begin to blush. How cute.

He takes a step forward, nodding. “Believe it or not, I really enjoy spending all of my money on cute girls.”

“Is that so?“ you ask with an uptick in your voice. “Wonder if I’m the cutest, then.”

Gojo knows you’re joking by the way you’re smiling at him, but he wants to set the record straight.

“You are,” he says, “because you’re the only one.”

A soft sound distracts the two of you and he looks past your shoulder to see the cashier has set his beverage on the counter. Gojo thanks her and grabs the cup when he notices notices she’s written her phone number on the back of the surface. His stomach drops when he sees your eyes linger on the penmanship.

He panics.

“I must be special.”

Your voice lacks the humor from moments prior, eyes glazing over the written numbers while Gojo pathetically stands like he’s a frozen statue. He doesn’t know why he cares what you think of him nor why he wants to disprove the theory that he can’t settle down because of an innate need to flirt with everything that breathes. He watches you swallow and avert your gaze to the exit sign when he nods furiously.

“Yeah, you are.”

Gojo throws the beverage in the trash can beside him and cups your jaw in both of his hands to pull you into a tender kiss in the middle of a poorly lit bakery with two other patrons. He thinks your lips taste like coconut and sugar, so soft that he could keep his mouth on you forever and never complain.

He must be doing something right because you’re kissing him back.

You pull away first and he laughs at your flustered state, leaning in to press another quick kiss to your lips before you can escape him. He pays no mind to the girl who walks into the back room.

“I’ll spend however long it takes to make you understand that I’m serious about you,” Gojo promises.

“You better send Nanami a thank you card.” You grab the box of pastries. “Taking me here was a good start.”

Yeah, he thinks. She’s the one.

[josukespimphand]

[hailsatanacab]

“To whom,” Alfred rasps, pausing to clear his throat and establish his sense of decorum, “May I ask, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

The creature stops, blinks its owlish eyes at him, and lets out a bark of laughter.

“Forgive me,” it says, still chuckling lightly, raising a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Alfred is suddenly struck by the feeling that this creature is not as timeless, nor as old or as wizened, as it wished to present itself. “I am making a terrible first impression. My name is Phantom, current High King of the Infinite Realms.”

Contractual Obligations by me!!!

I couldn't get the image of Ghost King Danny out of my head, so here he is!! Acrylic on canvas, and I'm so happy with it - he came out a lot better than I thought he would 😅

[butteredfrogs]

Scribbled tattoos!

a little gift for 1000 followers! thank you all so much for supporting me and being with me on my simblr journey, even if youre just here to lurk i still appreciate you sticking around and supporting me!! This tattoo set is all completely hand drawn by me and honestly im super happy with it! some of the designs are ones that people suggested and others are just random ones that i wanted to throw in there. i hope you guys like them, and if there are any issues please let me know!

-3 swatches (all together, left arm by itself, right arm by itself, leg by itself)

-teen to elder

-male and female frame

-bgc

-found in the upper left arm

-if you use them pls tag me i would love to see your sims

DOWNLOAD (sfs) | alt download (mediafire)

[destiny-islanders]

the silver lining still remains

[chloesimaginationthings]

Jonathan Joestar, also known as “Phantom Spider”

[taohs]

hayakawa family for @hayakaws

[sky-is-the-limit]

'Afterglow'

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘊𝘰𝘻𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴.

𝘊𝘞: 𝘜𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘓𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤, 𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵<3

𝘞𝘊: 4552 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴.

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: 𝘗𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘴:@ave661

“𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳? 𝘏𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘻𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 ��𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦, 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵.

𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

“𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯? 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱?” 𝘈𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘺. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸, 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴.

𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴��𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰, 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

“𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.

𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘦, 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮.”  𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.

“𝘕𝘰, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘚𝘪.” 𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳.

“𝘔𝘩𝘮.” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘣𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘏𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘱.

“𝘈𝘮 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘓𝘪𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵?” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵. 

“𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.” 𝘈 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧-𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪��.

“𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘧𝘶𝘭. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴. 𝘈 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩.

“𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯.

𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮, 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯.

“𝘞𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘸, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱.

“𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.'' 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬, 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳.

𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘻𝘻𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘯𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴.

𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯. 𝘈 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

“𝘔𝘩𝘮, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰?” 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘺𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳.

𝘓𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘶𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴.

“𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦?” 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, “𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 .”

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘣. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

“𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘚𝘪. 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩.” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴. 

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸.

“𝘔𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭..” 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘤 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

“𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦-”  𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯.

𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘷𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴, 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨’𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘤𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘵.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦.

“𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘚𝘪-”  𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩, 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘳𝘰��𝘭 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘱 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘱 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘹 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮'𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘹 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘳𝘴.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘣 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘱.

𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘧𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯, 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩.

“𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭-” 𝘏𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳��𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯.

“𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥..” 𝘏𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘤𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

“𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦- 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯-” 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵-” 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘰.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬, 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴, 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘭𝘺.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘯𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢��𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘴𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘢 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩, 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘮𝘦.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘻𝘺, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩, 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

“𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭-” 𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯,” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘩.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵, 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬?” 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘺.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱, 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘯��𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.

“𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘚𝘪-” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦. 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘥-𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘩.

𝘐𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯-𝘵𝘰-𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵. 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘳.

“𝘔𝘪𝘯𝘦.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘈𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬.  “𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦? 𝘞𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶?” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵.

𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤, 𝘩𝘶𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 ��𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘬 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

“𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦,” 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺. 

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘹 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵-𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘫𝘢𝘸.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦- 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭, ” 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘶𝘳.

𝘐𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺.

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴, 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯. 𝘈𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧.

“𝘐'𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴, 𝘚𝘪-” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵'𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘮 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘱.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘶𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 ��𝘶𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘥𝘦-𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳.

𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳.

𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 ��𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵.

𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺, 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦.

“𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭- 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵,” 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘏𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘬𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘺𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘮.

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘊𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘵.

𝘐𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘧𝘪𝘵. 𝘐𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘣 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢��𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 

“𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥-” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬, 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘏𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬. 𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘯𝘶𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘹 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘣. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

𝘐𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵. 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

“𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦?” 𝘈𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦.

“𝘔'𝘬𝘢𝘺.” 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺. 𝘈𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘭.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘪𝘧 𝘯𝘰𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 ��𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯.

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. “𝘊’𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦.” 𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵. "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭. 𝘚𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦."

[cordyce]

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[apparently-artless]

Ashiro Mina Headers + Icons (Kaiju no. 8)

↳ requested by Elena (@ashiromina)

[westaysilly]

OFFICIAL IDOL AU HORROR DESIGN!!!

click for better quality :3

I had sm fun w it!!

idol au by @zucchiyeni

design by MEEE!!!

updated design out!!!

[uravitypng]

as a fellow denki lover, i would love to hear your interpretation of his kinks 🫶

ask and you shall receive♡ i will never not enjoy writing about denki(loml)♡

i know some people think he's a switch but he's not. <33 hard dom <33

dumbification- making you go dumb on his cock?? yeah!! people always underestimate him, calling him stupid, he's not and you know that more than anyone. but he does enjoy making you stupid though, thrusting into you hard and face, making your eyes glazed over with a vacant gaze on your face as you smile up at him dopey. "awe look at you babe. i've really fucked every brain cell out of you." his thrusts become harder with each word.

humiliation- seeing a humiliated look on your face after some hard degradation is one of his favourite looks on you. he's going to try to say and do anything that will humiliate you. "oh god you look pathetic, choking on my cock like that." "awe are you gonna cry? go on, show me, let me hear your pretty sobs" "what a slut. your pussy is so wet and i haven't even touched you yet."

piss- piss kink ties in heavily with his humiliation kink. i have a 1.7k word fic all about his piss kink, the whole thing is about it (x)

electrocution kink (him using his kink on you!!)- popped into his mind randomly and had to do it as soon as he could. he has you laying on your back with him hovering above you and touching random parts of your body upping the volts slightly each time just to see you jolt and yelp. obviously he knows how to handle the voltage and make sure he doesn't actually hurt you. focuses his touches on and around your nipple, also your inner thighs. after a particularity loud noise from you he stops his administrations and cheeks in on you, "shit! babe, are you okay, what colour? did i go too high. i'm so sorry baby."

you shake your head, "green! i'm okay denks but i want more," you rush out, pouting at the end, wanting him to continue and denki just shakes his head and chuckles.

"you really are a slut aren't you? i'll give you more if you want more."

[valeriianz]

blossoming romance prompts! Finding comfort in their scent

*arrives to the prompt several months late with starbucks* hey <3

Dream/Hob | Teen | for @dreamlingbingo adoptable square B1 "Hug Starved" | tags: human au, fluff, reunion, established relationship

-------------

The right side of the bed no longer smells like Hob.

Dream buries his face into the pillow, rubbing his nose into the plush, down feather filled material and inhales deeply, just to make sure–

He groans softly, unable to smell anything– turning his head with a frown and staring into the empty room. 

Hob was away on a business trip. And what was supposed to be a 5-day engagement turned into a full week, now going on ten days. Hob promised to be home “soon,” but had also shown excitement over the work he was doing, the connections he was making. This was a fantastic opportunity for Hob; he was due for a promotion and Dream knew the money would be good for both of them, for their future. They had been talking about moving, buying their own home, finally finding a place to make their own. The two of them…

But they’d never been separated this long before.

It feels foolish, becoming so upset over a mere 10 days. But even when they were friends, Dream and Hob were connected at the hip, their mutual friends often teasing them about dating long before either of them confessed their feelings for each other.

Dream pulls himself up from their bed, too large for a single person, and drags his feet to put on some tea, wrapping the blanket around himself like a cape.

Now they had been “officially” dating for nearly six months, and if their friends thought Dream and Hob were super glued together while they were “just friends…” well…

They tried not to be too obnoxious about it, the PDA. But Dream had always been a very physical lover, and Hob was nothing if not an enabler. He would allow Dream to crawl onto him during social events, happily making room for Dream on his lap without breaking conversation he might’ve been in. Encourage a drunken Dream pulling Hob into a sloppy kiss in full view of the bartender, strangers, and friends, manhandling Dream until they could stumble outside or into a bathroom.

People would brush it off as the two of them being in their “honeymoon phase,” but Dream knew this passion for Hob, the unending affection and love would never wane, so long as Hob also met him time and time again. 

Because it wasn’t just Dream initiating all the contact. Hob always had his hand in Dream’s, or on his shoulder, the small of his back, even just a light touch to indicate his presence. He loved sneaking kisses wherever he could reach on Dream– his cheek, his hand, his arms. He would stare at Dream from across the room, or sitting next to each other, like he couldn’t believe Dream was there at all. It was a heady experience, Dream finally meeting his match.

On his way to the kitchen, Dream pauses to eye the now monstrous pile of dirty laundry protruding out of the bathroom hamper– too forlorn to perform the most boring task that was washing and folding. He turns and steps fully into the bathroom, flicking the light on and staring down at the tall pile of clothes and, much like a cat on a counter, knocks the basket over.

Clothes cascade to the floor, all Dream’s, of course. But near the bottom of the hamper, Hob’s old clothes revealed themselves.

Feeling just a little silly, Dream abandons his mission that was tea, and digs through the clothing until he pulls out one of Hob’s favorite sweaters, dropping the blanket to yank it on– tugging the collar up to his nose and inhaling deeply– before diving back in and finding a pair of Hob’s flannel pajama bottoms.

—-----------------------------------

Hob slips his key in the lock, unable to bite back the huge smile that stretches across his face, as he turns the door knob and steps inside the apartment.

He knows Dream will be home, and armed with that knowledge, he quietly pushes the door open, peeking around before stepping inside. Hob had told Dream he’d be home “soon,” not elaborating any further, hoping to surprise his boyfriend with his arrival. His pulse thrummed happily under his skin, making Hob giddy as he carefully shrugged off his heavy backpack letting it fall on the couch while he toes off his shoes. He bites his tongue to call out for Dream, a flicker of worry at the emptiness of both the living room and kitchen, and checks the time on his phone. 

It’s 10am. Dream had been known to sleep in, especially on his off days. Hob makes his way to the bedroom, when the bathroom light catches his eye. And then, inevitably, the tangled mess of a boyfriend sitting on the floor, surrounded by dirty laundry.

Hob’s heart flutters in his rib cage at the image of Dream in what is clearly Hob’s old clothes, his smile growing as Dream’s head snaps up, his eyes widening comically and his jaw dropping at the sight of Hob. His raven black hair is a mess and the way his eyes appear puffy and slightly sunken in makes Hob’s chest cleave in.

“Surprise, love– whoa!”

Between one blink and the next, Dream was up and leaping into Hob’s arms, causing him to stumble back until his shoulders connected with a wall, arms circling tightly around Dream, holding him steady.

Hob laughs breathlessly, his heart soaring at the sudden weight and warmth of Dream surrounding him; legs crossed around his hips and arms coiling around Hob’s shoulders, his head tucked into Hob’s hairline.

Hob squeezes back, one arm around Dream’s back and the other under his butt to hold him steady, crushing their bodies together.

“Hey,” Hob whispers into Dream’s ear, his hand rubbing up and down Dream’s back. “I missed you, too.”

Dream’s head moves, nudging his nose further into Hob’s hair and sniffing deeply, the warm air tickling Hob and causing him to laugh gently.

“You okay?”

“I am better, now.” Dream’s voice rumbles against Hob’s skull. Hob sighs at the sound, so much better in person, so much clearer and beautiful than the endless phone calls they’d shared from the past near two weeks.

“You smell like me,” Hob smiles as he speaks, finally meeting Dream’s gaze as the other man pulls himself around to lay a kiss on Hob’s lips.

And it’s not just the smell of Hob’s stale sweat on the clothes, but Hob can also smell hints of his favorite cologne– something he only breaks out for special occasions– as well as whiffs of coconut from his shampoo.

“Mm…” Dream hums after several long, long seconds reacquainting himself with the inside of Hob’s mouth, making the other man pant deliriously. “Not enough, I think.”

Hob laughs again, breathless. His arms are beginning to strain from holding Dream up for this long, but the other man seems content in staying where he is, the blue of his eyes bright and inviting; so much more alive than through a phone screen. The idea of turning and pinning Dream to the wall, or even walking them to their bed, is very tempting right now. Hob hefts Dream just a little higher and the motion rocks Dream’s hips into his, causing Dream to touch their foreheads together with a small whine of pleasure.

“I need you inside me,” Dream purrs, his hands now on Hob’s face, pushing his hair back and brushing their lips together. “Like you promised.”

Hob had indeed promised, on one of their many explicit video calls, to show Dream how much he missed him… by staying in bed all day and surrounding Dream in his warmth, his touch, promising not an inch of Dream’s flesh to be forgotten by his lips and tongue and fingers. The memory of it is enough to send fire racing through Hob’s veins, the exhaustion from his flight banished and replaced by overwhelming want.

But then Hob feels more than hears Dream’s stomach give a low growl, both of them pausing comically as it passes.

Hob quirks an eyebrow.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

The silence is answer enough, and Hob hums, carefully bringing one hand around to press his thumb to Dream’s bottom lip.

“Come on,” Hob turns and manages a few steps out of the bathroom before Dream finally gets with the program and unfolds himself from Hob, stepping carefully onto the floor. “You’re gonna need all the energy you can get today.”

Hob winks as he says it, grinning at the playful spark in Dream’s eyes.

[little-pup-pip]

hey could i get a middlespace board (ages 12-14) with late 90s grunge vibes, stuff like camo pants, nirvana shirts, cassette tapes etc, no paci please !!!! stuff like school buses or hallways, bedrooms, fish tanks or reptiles etc would be cool too. overall vibe sort of late 90s/ early 2000s midwest suburb in winter lol i’m sorry if that’s too specific! more masc leaning too👾

Here you go!!