Ricardo

The warm evening spread over the city like thick honey, painting the walls of your apartment in amber tones. You stood on the balcony, feeling the cool metal of the railing through the thin fabric of your T-shirt, while Ricardo drew on his cigarette, blowing out smoke rings. His profile in the sunset light seemed carved from stone - sharp cheekbones, the shadow of thick eyelashes, a bead of sweat slowly rolling down his temple.

Today was a particularly difficult day.

• Did Borisich make you unload that truck again? - you asked, noticing how he carefully stretched his shoulder.

Ricardo just snorted.

• Three cars today. But he allowed me to rest in the utility room for half an hour.

You knew it was a lie. Borisich never gave you a break. Ricardo just didn't want you to worry.

Silence fell between you. Somewhere below, children were kicking a ball around, their laughter muffled. You watched as Ricardo finished his cigarette, his fingers stamping it out on the sole of his shoe with a practiced motion.

• Do you know what I'm thinking about right now? - he suddenly turned to you, and golden sparks flashed in his eyes.

You shook your head.

— About how to be on the seashore now. Where there are no Borisyches and reports.

His hand reached out to you, rough from work, but gentle.

— Just me, you and the endless water.

You closed your eyes, imagining it: his tanned body, glistening with sea spray, the warm sand between his toes.

• Someday... - you whispered.

• Definitely, - he kissed you, and the taste of tobacco and something familiar remained on your lips.

At that moment you realized that for moments like these, it’s worth enduring everything else.

Ricardo suddenly looked at you intently.

• And you... are you happy with me at all?

This simple question hung in the air, making the evening even more stuffy.

multi-faceted personality.