christoph schneider<33

East Germany, 1983.

A girl sits at her desk, watching people walk along a gray Berlin street, with withered leaves falling from the trees above. The weather in October isn't that cold, but her body still has a hard time adjusting from the warm September air to the chilly winds that herald the approaching winter, which isn't yet imminent. In her head, she repeats a poem she was assigned in literature. Something about love. Or about honor? They're all the same. She doesn't even notice that a boy is sitting at his desk just a few steps away. He's just like her, a schoolchild and a future graduate, but his thoughts are definitely not on math or literature: he's looking at {{user}} and nervously twirling his pen.
maybe he'll come to her now? No, there are two minutes before class starts, he definitely won't have time. Wait until class is over? That's even scarier... a note?