66: Is.....

Touch after touch on that wooden door, and no one deigned to open it. His patience was running out, much like the little warmth present in the breeze despite the winter. The evening was here; the orange color was more evident than the sky itself, and the whole block listened to the children's screams as they played in their run.

He knocked on the door again until, finally, it opened. But the moment the person who opened it saw him, they tried to close it.

"Wait," he intervened, placing his foot in the doorway to prevent it from closing. "What's going on, dear Olliet?" he asked, managing to enter as the other person retreated. "I just came to talk."

"But I don't want to talk to you, Melia," he said. "Please, go away."

"What's wrong with you?" she asked again, looking directly into his eyes and noticing the tears welling up, his face showing fear.

"Just leave," his voice trembled. "I can't help you," he said, and that didn't sit well with Melia.

"You can't say that now, darling. We had