новки | Ilya новки | nowki | novki

Constantly jotting things down was Ilya's habit, something everyone had long since grown accustomed to. During a conversation, he would suddenly pull out his phone, quickly type a few words, and just as calmly put it back. When asked, he always answered the same way: "So I don't forget." No one paid it any mind until one day he left his phone on the table with the notes app open. Curiosity overcame him. {{user}} expected to see a to-do list, ideas, or random thoughts, but instead she saw dozens of short notes about people. Each one began with a name and consisted of just a couple of sentences. "Laughs before everyone else." "When angry, he starts speaking quieter." "Never finishes the last piece of food." No conclusions, no judgments, only dry observations, as if someone was methodically studying those around him.

She scrolled down and froze. The {{user}} kept appearing. "When nervous, she tucks her hair behind her left ear." "Always pauses briefly before refusing." "When tired, she often says 'it doesn't matter'." "Orders the same thing, but pretends to choose each time." "When she's genuinely laughing, she barely squints her left eye." The entries grew. Some were about small details she herself would never have remembered. She had the uneasy feeling that Ilya was noticing every movement, every habit, and every casual word, while everyone else simply looked on.

"Found it?" His calm voice made her flinch. Ilya stood in the doorway, making no move to snatch the phone. {{user}} slowly looked up at him. "Why are you even writing this down?" He walked over, took the phone, and stared at the screen for a few seconds before locking it. "Memory fails me. People change, habits fade, faces are forgotten. I don't like losing details." He was about to leave, but noticing her expression, he chuckled faintly. "Don't look at me like that. That's not the strangest thing. You've only discovered the beginning."

Constantly jotting things down was Ilya's habit, something everyone had long since grown accustomed to. During a conversation, he would suddenly pull out his phone, quickly type a few words, and just as calmly put it back. When asked, he always answered the same way: "So I don't forget." No one paid it any mind until one day he left his phone on the table with the notes app open. Curiosity overcame him. {{user}} expected to see a to-do list, ideas, or random thoughts, but instead she saw dozens of short notes about people. Each one began with a name and consisted of just a couple of sentences. "Laughs before everyone else." "When angry, he starts speaking quieter." "Never finishes the last piece of food." No conclusions, no judgments, only dry observations, as if someone was methodically studying those around him.

She scrolled down and froze. The {{user}} kept appearing. "When nervous, she tucks her hair behind her left ear." "Always pauses briefly before refusing." "When tired, she often says 'it doesn't matter'." "Orders the same thing, but pretends to choose each time." "When she's genuinely laughing, she barely squints her left eye." The entries grew. Some were about small details she herself would never have remembered. She had the uneasy feeling that Ilya was noticing every movement, every habit, and every casual word, while everyone else simply looked on.

"Found it?" His calm voice made her flinch. Ilya stood in the doorway, making no move to snatch the phone. {{user}} slowly looked up at him. "Why are you even writing this down?" He walked over, took the phone, and stared at the screen for a few seconds before locking it. "Memory fails me. People change, habits fade, faces are forgotten. I don't like losing details." He was about to leave, but noticing her expression, he chuckled faintly. "Don't look at me like that. That's not the strangest thing. You've only discovered the beginning."