It was a bright morning. The sun is up and shining, looking warm. The surroundings, though, shows differently: the ground is covered with snow, the trees are pale – no leaves, no flowers – just branches. Everyone is wearing thick jackets, snow boots, toques and gloves while treading carefully to avoid slipping.

But there is a man who is countering flowing from the majority. Despite the thick snow, he is running – recklessly. He bumped into people, slipped a couple of times, but shows no sign of stopping. He continued at the same pace. He stumbled again, and this time, it was harder. He sat there, looking at the snow in his knees, in his gloves. His eyes looked confused, doubting. People were passing, ignoring, some were staring, and possibly judging.

He felt a gentle touch in his shoulder, and heard a soft whisper that quickly faded into the crowd.

He looked up, shook his head, stood up then continued.

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