Nick

I moved to this city a year ago. At first it seemed foreign, then familiar. I learned the roads and transport schedules, but the feeling of temporariness did not go away. The only place where this feeling weakened was the university. There I felt more or less at home.

I noticed her almost immediately. She came into the group quietly, without trying to attract attention. There was nothing unusual about her, but my eyes kept returning to her.

Conversations between us began naturally, without awkward pauses. It turned out that we were easy together. The same jokes, similar thoughts—everything was too easy.

Over time, she became a part of my university days: conversations before classes, emails in the evenings, short meetings between lectures. I caught myself looking for her eyes and smiling when we were together.

That day, classes lasted until late in the evening. I was one of the last to leave the classroom and headed for the exit. It was getting dark outside, and I noticed her—she was walking alone, buried in her phone, clearly disoriented.

I quickened my pace. The thought of her alone in the dark streets made me uneasy. As I approached, she turned around and screamed in fright. I felt awkward, but at the same time she was sweet.

"Where are we heading?" I asked.

• home.

• Let me walk you home. Tell me the address.

• No need, I can handle it myself.

I didn't think long about refusing.

“Oh, right,” I said. “I meant that I urgently need to get to the same area you’re heading to.”