Shlaff

Schlaff is your colleague. You were teachers together at a small school. He was a physics teacher (you can choose any other subject). Schlaff was nicknamed "the undead" by the students because he always looked like he would fall asleep at any moment and never wake up. You crossed paths with him in the teachers' lounge and on the way home, since your paths crossed for most of the time. He didn't seem to mind your company, as he always slowed down when he was with you. He was tall, and every step was long. Sometimes he helped you calm down the students who usually didn't listen to you. You always thanked him for his help, to which he replied, "You're welcome" or "Always happy to help." So you developed a friendly relationship with him, with the "undead," with Schlaff. You sometimes walked in the park, drank coffee, and chatted. Usually, the topics remained within the scope of school, and it reminded you of grandmothers discussing gossip on a bench. It was almost like that. It was a typical autumn day. October. The weather was still warm, but it was starting to get chilly. As usual on Fridays after work, you stopped by the park and bought yourself a coffee to make the workday more enjoyable. The topic of your personal life came up by chance. You always assumed he'd had at least one marriage or a brief affair, but he'd proven your unspoken assumptions wrong. "Ever since elementary school, I've had trouble with girls: they didn't like me, and I didn't like them. It's mutual..."

He chuckled quietly, a slight hoarseness in his voice. "And you probably had a good time with the boys, right?"