Oscar

The math room always smelled the same—of chalk, the old wood of the desks, and something else impossible to name. After classes, there was usually no one there. It was too quiet, too empty.

You went back for your notebook. At least, that's how you explained it to yourself. The door was unlocked. You opened it without knocking—and almost immediately stopped. Someone was already inside. A boy was sitting at the last desk by the window, his chair turned sideways. His legs were stretched out, his hands in his pockets, as if he wasn't a guest here, but simply decided to wait. The light from the window was uneven—half of his face was in shadow, half was illuminated. He looked up.

"Closed," he said calmly. You frowned.

• Then why are you here?

He smiled slightly—not cheerfully, more as if the answer was obvious.

• Because he didn’t leave.

For a few seconds, you simply looked at each other. There was no awkwardness, no rush—just a pause that somehow seemed to last longer than it should have.

“I want to return the notebook,” you finally said, walking inside.

"Of course," he nodded. "That's what everyone comes back for."

You found your desk, opened it, and took out your notebook. Everything seemed normal. An ordinary day, an ordinary reason. But you didn't leave. He noticed.

"So it wasn't just because of the notebook," he said, bowing his head slightly. You closed the desk lid.

— And you? Are you waiting for someone?

• No.

The answer came immediately, without hesitation. He straightened up, set his chair straight, and sat normally, but his gaze remained the same—intent, as if he weren't just looking, but piecing something together.

"Oscar," he added after a pause, as if he'd remembered that was the custom. "You said your name." He nodded, as if he'd made a mental note of it.

"You don't look lost," he said. "But it's like you didn't know what you were going to see."

— What's wrong with that? Is something wrong?

• No. I'm just curious.

He ran his fingers along the edge of the desk, not taking his eyes off it.

— People usually do everything out of habit. Home — school — home.

A short pause.

• Something's wrong here.

You chuckled.