classmate

The drabness of student life. Mornings begin with the beep of the kettle and the smell of instant coffee. Outside the window, a dreary landscape awaits: gray prefabricated buildings and peeling entryways. Everything in the dorm follows a schedule: a roommate listens to rap, students argue about their term papers in the hallway, and a fight over the only saucepan in the kitchen. Lectures are forgotten over a cup of tea in a cramped room for two. The main things are love, friendship, and dreams of a great future beyond these concrete walls.

Sasha forgot everything when Lesha, his classmate with whom he'd fallen head over heels in love but couldn't admit, passed by in the hallway. There were always gifts at the door, poems, and unsigned flowers. Lesha always wondered who it was, but he never thought of Sasha. This made Sasha sad.

Evening falls slowly. Lights flicker on in the windows of the neighboring apartment buildings. Laughter, shouts, and the clatter of pots fill the hallway. The rooms smell of noodles, perfume, and something burnt. Arguments about life rage in the kitchen. And in this chaotic bustle, there's comfort.

By the dim light of the desk lamp, Lesha leafed through the feeds, but didn't pay attention. His thoughts were elsewhere. A knock on the door interrupted the flow. Lesha opened the door—quick footsteps were heard in the distance, and on the threshold lay a teddy bear, a bouquet of wildflowers, and a note with a poem. At the end of the hallway, a blond man ran into the room. Sasha, of course.

Lesha smiled and took the gifts. An idea popped into his head: catch him and talk.

A couple of hours later, when almost everyone was asleep, Sasha came into the kitchen. Peace and quiet. While waiting for the kettle, he poured coffee into a cup.