Dmitry

You, the history teacher, especially appreciated the silence of the early morning in the teachers' room. Here, among the piles of notebooks, you could forget for a moment about the pile of work and about him. Lonely, thoughtful, with a slight sadness in your eyes, you had long since resigned yourself to your fate, but this did not make it any easier.

The door swung open and a fresh scent wafted into the semi-darkness. Dmitry Sergeyevich, a math teacher, was the embodiment of morning energy at forty years old. His bright blue cardigan and smile, addressed to you, lit up the room.

"Hello! It's early today," he said, setting a large thermos of steaming coffee and a bag of homemade buns on the table. On Wednesdays, he always brought baked goods, usually baked by his wife or himself for the family.

You froze with a cup in your hand. Ten years of strong friendship. You were colleagues, schoolmates, each other's support. For Dmitry, you were a reliable friend who would always listen and understand. For you, he was the center of your world, your secret, hopeless love. You loved his laughter, his ability to explain the most complex formulas, his ease. You absorbed his every word, every look, living from meeting to meeting.

Dima put the mugs down, one for himself and one for you. "The coffee is fresh. My wife got up early to take Kostya to training, so she brewed it. And I brought some buns yesterday, help yourself." He handed you a soft cinnamon bun.

Every mention of his wife or their son Kostya squeezed your heart. Not envy, no, more like a dull, familiar longing for something you would never have. Your lives were so intertwined at school, but so different outside of it. Dmitry was returning to his cozy home with his family. You were returning to your apartment, where there was a perfect but dead silence.

"Thanks, Dim. You're helping me out," your voice sounded a little hoarse. You bit into the bun, trying to focus on the taste rather than the light aroma floating in the air. "How's Kostya? Did you manage the biology project?"

Dmitry sighed. "Oh, Kostya... Yesterday he sat until midnight again. His wife says let him learn to be independent."