Bruises.

That's what Colette carried in secret.
Not the kind of bruises that were visible on skin, but the ones that had grown roots in the heart. Occasionally stitches were ripped open again. One of those catalysts was money.

She was sick of hearing about it, sick of thinking about it. How shallow must the world be that it's only enticement in life was determined by consumerism?

Colette always had valued giving over taking. It had been in her nature since she was a toddler. She had generously shared all of her toys. Repeatedly, she had to realize that not everyone valued giving over taking, that not everyone had a selfless streak.

Her mother had been a professional dancer born in France and her father had been a receptionist in a motel, together they could barely afford enough.

Colette had seen her parents fall apart because of this, all because of some colourful paper that actually meant nothing.

When she had moved out and finally stood financially on her own, she had been proud of herself. The feeling of liberty had been rushing through her veins and for a split second, she had felt invincible.

But now here she was again.
Unemployed, desperately seeking a lodger. That feeling of freedom had vanished, it had been made obsolete by responsibility.

Colette wished she could live without repercussions. Though she cared way too much about everyone else to just let go and do whatever she wanted.

She had submitted her application everywhere, especially to many hospitals or medical practices, which was obvious considering the fact that she was studying at university with the intention of becoming a nurse.

Every single one had turned her down and she couldn't explain why. Now, having lost her job at the restaurant, she was feeling vulnerable and angry. Sure, finding a lodger was a solid idea, but she was plagued with the thought that if anything went wrong it would be her fault.

She sat across from the university on a bench, not making a move to get back home. The freezing wind made her shiver, but somehow she thought that the bad weather was a good addition to her sombre mood.

Then, all of a sudden, she spotted him.

He was wandering around like a lost puppy. His hair was dark, brushed back as if he had just left a formal event. He was dressed strangely, his shirt looked like he had just left a motto party, where he had dressed up as an aristocrat. Little Lord Fauntleroy came into Colette's mind. The man's shirt was white and featured a starched chin-high neck and the sleeves were festooned with ruffles.

Maybe he had been an actor in a play and they had thrown him out and now he was roaming streets helplessly. Maybe this was also a new hipster fashion trend Colette didn't know about.

Colette had once found a man on the streets who had been an undocumented refugee. She had done anything in her power to give him shelter and look that he had a place to stay after she left him. Unfortunately, authorities had then taken him in and she knew nothing about his whereabouts.

This guy didn't resemble the refugee, but Colette still felt an incredibly paralyzing need to help. She could never just stand back and do nothing, there may be nobody to wipe her tears away, but she wanted to wipe everyone else's, so she found herself on her feet pretty quickly.

"Excuse me?", she said in his direction, "Are you lost, sir?"

He looked up, in his dark eyes, there was a flare of panic. His face wasn't extraordinary or distinctive, but there were signs of laughter lines, soft lips and his whole aura was lively and warm. Maybe it was his tan skin that made him approachable, he looked healthy, but completely distressed by the situation he had gotten into.

"I-," he began, "I've kind of been thrown out of my flat, and now I'm trying to reach some friends, so I can stay at their place. As it seems, none of them are picking up, so I'm quite in a situation."

The man had a brummie accent, seemed to be a local, and Colette was gullible and didn't ask questions about why he didn't decide to stay in a hotel, for example.

"I'm Colette," she introduced herself and took his hand into hers, shaking it firmly. She pointed at the university building, "I go to school here," she explained to him, "I have a room free, which is close. We are currently looking for a lodger, if you want to sleep in that bed for a day or two, till you have sorted things out, you are welcome to do so."

The man wasn't convinced. He furrowed his eyebrows, as if he were to figure out if all of this would be a trick, trying to lure him into something, but Colette's calm and gentle voice had somehow convinced him.

"Kaspar," he said, "I really don't want to be an inconvenience for you. I can sleep on the streets, it's completely okay. You don't have to do this."

"Oh, I insist," she gave him a big warm smile, "We'll make you soup", she added.

Making soup was Colette's recipe to put someone back on track. In her opinion, Kaspar needed to be put back on track, not just because he was wearing strange clothing, but also because he seemed tired and uneasy. She wanted to create a safe place for him immediately.

"There are others involved?" he asked, crossing his arms. He still looked a little wary, but interested in what she was saying.

Colette gave him a nod, "Yes, my roommates, but you shouldn't fear, they will agree with my decision." She softly put her hand on his arm and stated comforting, "All will be fine, just trust me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at her hand on him, "I wouldn't want to intrude on anything. Really, it's fine," he repeated.

"You don't have to stay for long, if you don't want to. It just gives you a place to stay while you sort out whatever's going on. The others won't mind," she told him, continuing to smile kindly at him. "Please, let me do this for you."

He paused, as if weighing up the different options in his mind. Eventually he looked at her and nodded, "Thank you, I think I'll take your offer."