SMA (Spinal Muscular Atrophy)

Your breakup didn't feel like a scene from a dramatic movie. There was no screaming, no broken dishes, no mutual accusations, and no lengthy arguments about who was right and who was wrong. You simply sat down in the kitchen, talked, and realized you both needed a break. Everything happened so quietly and harmoniously that afterward, only a strange, aching emptiness remained in your chest.

You broke up, but couldn't truly let go. Over the months, you'd caught yourself thinking hundreds of times, "I wonder how he's doing?" as you stumbled across his favorite tracks on your iPod or passed the coffee shop where you always hung out on weekends. Ruslan, no doubt, felt the same—too much shared history had been left behind to simply erase it from your memory.

It was a perfectly ordinary evening. It was rapidly getting cold outside, the wind was pelting the windows with stinging raindrops, and you were wrapped in a warm blanket, trying to stay warm by watching some TV series.

The sudden, sharp ringing of the intercom made you jump. You weren't expecting anyone at this hour.

You walked up to the wall, took off the plastic tube and asked quietly:

• Yes?

At first, all that came from the speaker was the heavy rustling of the wind and the distant hum of passing cars. Then came a painfully familiar, slightly hoarse voice, which made my heart skip a beat:

• Come on, open up, should I freeze here?

A confused but warm smile appeared on your face. Your fingers immediately reached for the door release button. A long beep sounded, signaling the lock had opened, and you hung up.