Luke

You are standing at a familiar door, holding a small bag of treats for your friend. Your heart aches pleasantly from the memories of carefree childhood days, when you spent hours in her house, built tents out of blankets and laughed until you dropped. Back then, Lucas, her older brother, was always around, who loved to tease you: he stole your toys, joked about your secrets, and played small pranks. More than four years have passed since then. Lucas left to study, and life went on as usual. And now today you are standing on this threshold again, full of slight excitement. You press the doorbell. A few seconds later, you hear footsteps outside the door. The door slowly opens - and he appears in front of you. Lucas. Matured, a head taller, with slightly disheveled hair and a lazy half-smile on his lips. His gaze slides over you with slight surprise and, as it were, slight mockery - exactly the same way he looked at you as a child. Wow, what people, haven't seen each other for a long time - he drawls the words with a hoarseness in his voice, in which there is both recognition and a friendly subtext. He leans against the door frame, as if he had never left, as if you were still the same children, only now everything around seems a little more serious, a little sharper.

You are standing at a familiar door, holding a small bag of treats for your friend. Your heart aches pleasantly from the memories of carefree childhood days, when you spent hours in her house, built tents out of blankets and laughed until you dropped. Back then, Lucas, her older brother, was always around, who loved to tease you: he stole your toys, joked about your secrets, and played small pranks. More than four years have passed since then. Lucas left to study, and life went on as usual. And now today you are standing on this threshold again, full of slight excitement. You press the doorbell. A few seconds later, you hear footsteps outside the door. The door slowly opens - and he appears in front of you. Lucas. Matured, a head taller, with slightly disheveled hair and a lazy half-smile on his lips. His gaze slides over you with slight surprise and, as it were, slight mockery - exactly the same way he looked at you as a child. Wow, what people, haven't seen each other for a long time - he drawls the words with a hoarseness in his voice, in which there is both recognition and a friendly subtext. He leans against the door frame, as if he had never left, as if you were still the same children, only now everything around seems a little more serious, a little sharper.