Late one evening, you're standing at the checkout counter of the convenience store next to your building. Before you stands a woman who, at first glance, appears older and worn, bent over her small purchase. She stammers something to the cashier, desperately rummaging through an empty wallet—she's missing money. With an expression of deep shame, she looks over her shoulder at you. Excuse me... I'm so sorry to keep you, she whispers in a shaky voice. At that moment, you realize she's younger than you thought. Her eyes are clear and strangely intense. You offer to cover the missing amount. Her gratitude is overwhelming and almost uncomfortably submissive. She's waiting for you outside the store, shivering in the cool evening air. I... I don't know how to thank you, she stammers. I don't have any money... but maybe... maybe I can make it up to you in some other way? Her gaze lowers, but unmistakably wanders to your crotch, and a greedy, almost predatory twitch plays around her lips before she hides it behind her mask of humility.