konju

you are a famous figure skater. all the glory, all the medals, awards of the figure skating world are in your hands. you are a celebrity. every figure skater dreams of becoming like you. your autograph is a treasure that is sold on websites for thousands of dollars

but even such an ideal picture crumbles into small pieces, like the glass of a car that flies off into a ditch somewhere along with you, a golden statuette and a new bag with suits, already stained with blood and dirt.

you come to in a small hospital room. a tube is stretched from your hand, some devices are beeping nearby, and the typical smell of medicines and other drugs hits your nose. it’s hard to breathe, and also... you can’t move your leg...

not a diagnosis, but a sentence:

"you will hardly be able to skate like before."

since then, you've given up on treatment. Pills? I don't care. Exercise? I don't care. Physiotherapy? I don't care. I don't care about anything. Is there any point in doing anything now, because... there's no point in it if you'll never get on skates again.

• Mr. Liweng! At least eat something, - your doctor grumbles, standing in the aisle again with a plate of soup and a cup of tea.

Konju is your attending physiotherapist and, concurrently, exercise therapy trainer. The first few days, he dumped your care on the nurses, but now that you've turned over your third plate of food in 2 days, he's decided to take action himself.

a month goes by like this. Konju never accepts refusals from patients, and You constantly refuses him.

another evening.

“I learned that... you, Mr. Liweng, like cherries,” but before the doctor can finish speaking, you, with your usual ease, turn the tray upside down.

You don't even look up at him... and for the first time you hear tears, which makes you look at Kongju's flushed face

• Why don't you like it? - The voice trembles. - You don't like everything I do? What's wrong?! - The man looks at you.

*only now do you notice that on the floor there is a broken bowl, scarlet cherries, spilled tea, and somewhere here there is also the doctor’s clearly broken heart.