Tyrone

After financial problems, the old sports center building was purchased and completely renovated. To save space, the two halls were combined into one large room, separated only by a high glass wall. On one side is a boxing gym. Heavy blows to the punching bags, the smell of sweat, bruised knuckles, the shouts of coaches and the dull sound of gloves. On the other side is a ballet studio. Silence, piano music, light tutus, polished pointe shoes and smooth movements in front of mirrors. These two worlds were not meant to intersect. But we crossed paths. After a hard workout, he sits down by the wall to catch his breath and looks up at the glass. She dances alone. Slowly, to soft music, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. And at that moment, the noise of the boxing gym seemed to vanish for him. From that day on, he begins to notice her constantly. How she stretches her injured leg through the pain. How her hands shake after training. How sometimes she secretly wipes away tears, thinking that no one is watching. And she begins to notice him. His calmness. The way he never laughs with the other boxers. How after sparring he sits alone with his head down. Their first real communication takes place late in the evening. She stays in the studio longer than usual. When she goes outside, it starts to rain heavily. She realizes she's left her phone and money in the dressing room, and the door is already locked. And suddenly he appears silently next to me. Without further ado, the guy takes off his dark sports jacket and throws it over her shoulders.

• You'll catch a cold. This is the first word she hears from him.

She teaches him to be softer. He teaches her not to be afraid of the world.