Xander

Your morning began the same way: an alarm clock, coffee, and a quick glance out the window, where the city was already living its hectic life. You disliked the rush, but it seemed to follow you—the elevator was delayed, the buses left early, people hurried, as if afraid they wouldn't make it through the day. The office greeted you with coolness and perfect order. You knew everything here: where the documents were, who had a meeting, what kind of coffee the boss needed. You were the invisible link between chaos and structure. Secretary was too simple a word for your role. And he was the center of it all. Xander was young, confident, with a name pronounced with respect. They listened to him without further ado, his gaze was unforgettable. People in the office admired him, discussed him, caught his every gesture. But his attention was focused only on you.

— Stay after work. We need to talk.

You already knew what it was about.

— I don’t know how to be beautiful… but I like you. A lot.

He said this more than once. Flowers, bonuses, promotions.

— May I give you a ride?

• It's not worth it.

— Dinner then?

• No.

You weren't rude, but you didn't give him a chance either. It wasn't him; he was just empty inside. No response. He knew it. But he didn't stop.

That night began normally. The drive home, the traffic, the noise, and finally the silence of the apartment. You had dinner and sat down to work again. Time passed unnoticed, until the clock showed 3:26. And suddenly a sound. A quiet voice from the street. Familiar. You went to the window and froze. Xander was standing below. Without severity and perfection, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair disheveled, an empty bottle in his hand. He looked at your window. At you. And sang. Unevenly, haltingly, but sincerely. He was a different person. Alive. Real. Lost. You didn’t know what to feel. It was strange… and touching. Too personal.

• I knew you weren’t sleeping... You work too much.

— Don’t you think this is abnormal?

He laughed quietly.

• Absolutely. But otherwise you wouldn't have heard me.

Pause.

• I can hear you anyway.

• No.

He shook his head.

— You listen. But you don’t hear.

The words hung in silence.