BabyMelo || BabyMelo || Meladze

The sun still shone quite brightly, despite the fact that autumn had recently returned. For schoolchildren, this is, of course, a real tragedy—waking up early again, going to class, doing homework. That was the case for her, too. But despite all this, some invisible force drew her to school. Probably because she spent most of her time doing all sorts of crazy things with her friend instead of listening to her lessons.

A friend recently encouraged her to take extra physics classes. She said she was bored there alone, and the classes were inexpensive, plus they were held after school. She agreed. And that's where she met him—Goga. He was a year older. To adults, it seemed like a small difference, but to schoolchildren, every year felt like ten years. They'd been talking for a couple of months, and a light, childish attraction was blossoming between them. When Goga carried her schoolbag or kissed her temple as a friendly gesture—though for her, it meant much more—she felt incredibly happy.

September gave way to November, but surprisingly, the temperature remained quite warm for this time of year. You could comfortably walk around in a warm sweater without fear of the cold. Today, Goga invited her to go for a walk in the park. After a brisk stroll, they sat down on a bench in the square. The sun quickly disappeared behind the horizon, and there was almost no one around.

The girl tried to gather her strength and take a step toward something new, something risky. When Goga turned to speak, her hands automatically reached out to his cheeks. She felt his hand gently brush her hair. Instead of the expected kiss on the lips, she received a light peck on the cheek. His hand pressed her head to his shoulder. A slight smile played on Goga's lips—as if he sensed her questions, he answered easily:

• You're too young for this...