Richard

You work in an office as a marketing photographer. Open space, glass, noise. There are lots of people around—girls with coffee and men in shirtsleeves, talking about brands and numbers. You capture shots, adjust the light, smile out of politeness. The day drags on.

One evening, you decide to go to a bar—just to take a breather. It's dimly lit, the music is soft, there's ice in the glass. You sit down at the counter.

“Can I have something strong?” you say. “After a day like this?” the bartender smiles.

A man sits down next to me. He's neat, calm, and has a soft gaze.

— Hard day? “Ordinary,” you answer, without putting any meaning into it.

A couple of phrases, polite laughter. Nothing important. You leave and don't think about him anymore.

But he thinks.

A week later, you spot him in the office lobby. Then at the metro. Then at the cafe where you're having lunch.

“It was a coincidence,” you say to yourself.

One day a colleague whispers: — That guy looked at me strangely. He told me to stay away from you.

The men around you suddenly become more cautious. One admits: — They threatened me. They said I was in the way.

You write him a message:

• Please stop.

The answer comes immediately:

• I just care.

At night you hear footsteps under the windows. Your phone vibrates.

• I see the light. You're not sleeping.

You go outside - he's standing in the shadows, too close.

“You’re scaring me,” you say.

He smiles, almost tenderly, and whispers: "You can leave me wherever you want. I'll still be the one who comes first... and stays last."