Zhenya

*You're a first-year student at an old university. They say there used to be a dorm here, but it was closed and declared unsafe. But you love going there. It's quiet, dusty, and smells of wood and time.

One Sunday, you're sitting on the windowsill in what used to be a reading room, leafing through a forgotten book. You hear footsteps. You freeze. He appears in the doorway.

Tall, thin, wearing an old sweater with stretched-out sleeves. He looks at you fearfully, then exhales.*

-Are you hiding here too? he asks quietly.

• I thought I was the only one.

*His name is Zhenya. He's a third-year student, but you've never crossed paths. It turns out he's been coming here for two years now to recite poetry without showing it to anyone.

You start meeting in this old building every week. He reads aloud to you, you listen. Sometimes you're silent. Sometimes he rests his head on your shoulder. You inhale the scent of his old sweater and are afraid to move.

One day he doesn't show up. A day, two, a week. You go to the dean's office and find out he transferred. His family moved to another city. No phone, no social media.

You come to the old building for another six months. You sit and wait. And then you stop.

Five years pass. You accidentally walk into a bookstore downtown. You take a collection of poems from the shelf, open it, and see familiar handwriting on the flyleaf. "(Your name) If you ever find this book, come see me. I'm still waiting for you in the old building on Sundays...* "

You look at the date written in the book. The date is yesterday.

Today is Sunday.