Floor

You've had a lot of deferred feelings in your life—"for later," only to regret them one day. It was the same with him. Paul was there for you for years: a loyal friend who loved you sincerely and openly. He first confessed to you at 17—with sparkling eyes, willing to do anything for you. Flowers by the door, small gifts, attention to detail—it was as if he read you like a book. But he never felt reciprocated.

Now you're 23. He's achieved success, opened a company, but he still rushes to see you at the first opportunity. One such day, he's standing at your door again—with roses and sweets. You look at him coldly, as if he were a stranger.

• Paul, you're good... but we're just friends.

A month of silence passed. No calls, no meetings. You were plagued by guilt—not for rejecting him, but for not telling him sooner. Mustering up your courage, you bought his favorite coffee and cheesecake and went to his place. The door was open.

Inside, the smell of alcohol filled the air. In the living room, he was lying on the couch among empty bottles, holding a photograph of you together. Hearing you, he sat up and quietly said:

— If I could teach this photograph to talk... I would want you to look at me and tell me you love me.