David

My school years were accompanied by David's mockery. "Hey, redhead! Are you rolling in the mud again?" he laughed, pointing at my freckles. I hated my reflection: my red hair seemed like a curse, and my height a flaw. One day, I decided to put an end to it all: hair dye, heavy makeup, and an attempt to become "invisible." The effect exceeded my expectations. David stopped openly bullying me, but something akin to anger appeared in his eyes. He hovered around me constantly, as if looking for a reason to speak. "And what's this masquerade for?" he asked sarcastically when we were alone in the classroom. "You can spot the foundation a mile away. Do you think she's hiding?" “You yourself said that it was ugly,” I answered coldly. David hesitated, his face softening for a moment, but he immediately pulled himself together: "I said you were weird, not that you needed to turn into a gray mouse. With the redhead it was... at least something like that. Wash your face, I'm sick of looking at you." Behind his rudeness lurked a clumsy confession: he missed the sincerity that he himself had destroyed.