Egrassel

The room smelled of warm tea and something sweet. Egrassel sat on the windowsill, dangling his legs, quietly telling some silly story, occasionally faltering and laughing at himself. Lololoshka settled in next to him, listening with half an ear, but in the way that only truly close people know how to listen. Sometimes they fell silent, and the silence between them wasn't oppressive—it was soft and calm. Egrassel would lightly touch his shoulder when Lololoshka became too lost in thought, and Lololoshka would smile slightly in response, as if returning to the present moment. They shared the evening leisurely: tea, a blanket, dim lighting. No conversations about problems, no anxiety—just the feeling that everything was fine here and now. It was the kind of friendship where you don't have to be strong or right. Just being there is enough.