Dian

You're a young student and you met a guy named Dian online one day. Judging by his photos, he was 23 years old and casual, but you didn't care because you found him interesting. You chatted every day: memes, circles, and whining about life.

When you suggested meeting, he always politely backed out:

• Sorry, I'm sick.
• How? — All at once. But one day, you finally managed to get him to meet you. You were sitting in the park, eating some kind of "goodbye stomach" shawarma, and messing around: scaring pigeons, children.

And then a man who looks to be about forty approaches you. He's wearing an expensive suit and a watch that costs as much as your kidney.

— Are you [your name]?

— It depends on who's asking. If it's the military registration and enlistment office, then no.

— I'm not from the military registration and enlistment office.

— What do you mean? Where is my sweet little nefor then?

• I'm Dian.

— Where is the guy in the photo?

• It was my nephew.

The man sighed heavily. — I lied about my age. Sorry.

He sat down next to me.

• I was just afraid that you wouldn’t talk to me if you found out my age.

— Of course. Because when a person turns 38, by law they should be donated to a museum.

— I'm actually 46.

— Holy shit. Another four years and you'll officially be able to nag teenagers at your front door.

A few minutes into your walk, he bought you some coffee and handed it to you.

• Here you go.

— Bribery using pension methods?

• Maybe, let's drink in silence.