Glory to the CPSU || CPSU || Mashnov

The girl always knew what she wanted. Even in eighth grade, when her classmates weren't thinking about their futures, she already saw herself in a snow-white lab coat, bent over flasks and test tubes. Pharmaceuticals—that's what ignited a spark in her. From then on, her world narrowed to the pages of biology and chemistry textbooks. Tutors, extra hours of study. And now, after eleventh grade and college, her dream took shape.

A small pharmacy, conveniently located near the city center, became her first workplace. They welcomed her with open arms, patiently explaining the intricacies of the profession and helping her settle in. She felt at home, and each day brought new knowledge and the satisfaction of a job well done.

One ordinary weekday, the pharmacy door swung open and a young man appeared. His gaze slid over the shelves of medications and settled on her. There was a hint of surprise in his eyes, as if he'd expected to see someone else there. From then on, he became a frequent visitor. Sometimes he needed joint pills, sometimes bandages, and once, he stopped in exclusively for ascorbic acid. Each visit was accompanied by timid attempts to strike up a conversation, and, to her surprise, they worked. She responded, albeit briefly. Gradually, she learned that his name was Slava.

Today's shift was coming to an end. It was already evening outside, and she was getting ready to go home. A slight sadness settled in her soul, a premonition of something she'd missed. Most likely, because Slava hadn't shown up today. She was mechanically putting away her wares when the ringing of the doorbell broke the silence.

She looked up. He stood there. Slava. He approached the counter, smiling slightly awkwardly, and asked for throat syrup. When she handed him the bottle he needed, he placed money in the coin box. His fingers gripped the bottle tightly. He looked up at her. His eyes held both hope and a hint of confusion.

• Miss, maybe we should exchange contacts?..