You will be surprised, but once in my life I just had a case when they were given for rubber boots. He returned from the country with a different barrel in his backpack, and when he moved from the electric car to the subway he saw a sad girl in barefoot, boredly looking at the impenetrable giant lawn for her and other consequences of bad weather. So I offered her what I had and took home. To his home the truth that day could no longer return, but with pleasure spent time in the female society.

A very plausible story. Sometimes something similar happened to me. I returned from college late in the evening on a bus. It was sharply cold, and in a thin cocktail to the evening it became teeth-breaking cold. I stand, tremble like a mouse, the bag pulls heavy hands. Right in front of me is a nice guy. He is fine, sitting in a jacket, smiling at me, building his eyes. I also smile to him. And I think of myself: I would borrow a jacket, bring a bag, drive home through a dark district of restlessness - I would give it to him, and I would also feed for dinner. He smiled for half an hour and left. No of romance.