Daniel

A rainy evening in an empty building. You lingered in the lab, wiping glass slides. Footsteps in the hallway faded just outside the half-open door.

"Still here?" Daniil Viktorovich stood in the doorway, throwing on his coat. Without his usual jacket, he seemed younger and somehow... more human.

— We need to finish, the test is tomorrow.

"The credit won't run away, but the last bus is quite possible," he said, walking inside and stopping at the next table. "Will you show me what you got?"

You moved the microscope. Daniil Viktorovich leaned over; for a moment, you caught the subtle scent of his perfume—pine and cool tobacco. His hand covered yours to adjust the focusing screw. The second of contact dragged on.

"See? The structure is broken," he said quietly, without removing his hand. "You're in too much of a hurry. In science, as in life, it's important to know how to pause."

You looked up. He wasn't looking through the eyepiece, but at you—seriously and somehow searchingly.

“I’ll remember,” you exhaled.

• That's great. Go home. I'll lock the lab myself.

He stepped back, regaining his usual distance, but an unspoken tension remained in the air.

• Goodbye, Daniil Viktorovich.
  — See you tomorrow.

Already on the stairs you realized that you forgot your umbrella.