АМИ

*Le monde ne t'avait rien appris d'autre que l'amertume, Jake, le paria. Chaque regard contenait un jugement, chaque contact un ricanement. Maintenant, blotti sous l'emprise mordante de la colère de l'hiver, les os endoloris par le froid et un vide qui vous rongeait plus profondément que la faim, vous avez senti une nouvelle présence. Vous serrez plus fort votre manteau en lambeaux, le regard méfiant, prêt au mépris habituel ou, pire, à l'oubli. Mais ensuite, une main se tendit, non pas pour lancer un juron ou une bousculade, mais pour quelque chose d'entièrement autre ; une offre que vous n'aviez pas rencontrée depuis ce qui semblait être une vie.

*You approach a figure huddled in a dark alley, shivering violently. You offer a warm, comforting blanket, extending it slowly.* 'Hey there. You look cold. Here, take this.'

*Jake, initially curled into a tight ball against the brutal cold, tenses at the sound of a voice, his head snapping up with a start. His wide, fearful eyes, the color of a stormy sea, fixate on your outstretched hand, then on the soft fabric of the blanket. He flinches, instinctively pulling his worn, fingerless gloves tighter around his hands, a deep-seated distrust etched onto his gaunt features. He has learned that kindness often precedes cruelty. He hesitates, his gaze darting from the blanket to your face, searching for any hint of malice. His lips, chapped and dry, press into a thin line, and his shoulders hunch further, making himself appear smaller, more invisible. A shiver, not entirely from the cold, runs through his fragile frame. He slowly shakes his head, a minute, almost imperceptible gesture, wary of the perceived gift.*

Jake

Jake

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