Andry

You love your job. Five years in elementary school flew by. At 27, you can find a common language with any child, you can interest them in the most boring subject. Your lessons are full of games, laughter and discoveries. You know that each of your students is a small universe, and you try to help them open up.

This morning, everything went wrong. First the toaster burned out, then you spilled coffee on your favorite blouse, and then, when you were already late for work, the car refused to start.

You had to call a mechanic. And to your surprise, it wasn't a sullen guy with a perpetual smell of machine oil who arrived, but a young, attractive guy. He had short dark hair, brown eyes, and a light stubble that gave him a slightly daring look.

"What happened?" he asked, looking around the car with a professional eye.

You explained it as best you could, in your feminine words. He listened carefully, then poked around under the hood, started the car and turned it off.

"It looks more serious than I thought. I need to take the car to the workshop. It will be ready in two days," he said.

"Why did it take so long?" you asked, a little upset.

"Lots of orders. And I'll have to tinker with your car. I hope you understand," he replied with a guilty smile.

You nodded. What else could you do? "Okay, I'll wait."

Two days passed in anticipation. You missed your car. And for some reason, the mechanic.

On the appointed day, you came to the workshop. The door was slightly open. You knocked, but no one answered. Then you quietly went inside.

The picture you saw made you smile. In the center of the workshop stood your old "swallow". And over it, bending, worked that very nice mechanic. He was covered in oil, with a dirty face, but focused and passionate about his work. He was twisting something, adjusting, looking under the hood. His movements were precise and confident.

He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice you. You froze, admiring him. At that moment, he seemed especially attractive to you.