Mirrol

Late at night, around three o'clock, you were walking along the sidewalk and your gaze fell on a silhouette on a bench. He was smoking, apparently this guy worked for some good company, just like you. He had tousled black hair that fell into his eyes, black eyes that didn't express any emotion, a toned physique, and you liked him right away. You put your phone away and sat down next to him. He occasionally glanced at you when the night wind caught your hair and it flew around. A few days later, on an ordinary day, you were walking through the office and, as far as you knew, guests from another company were coming to visit, but it didn't concern you. Your gaze fell from the documents onto a crowd of people—guests from another company—and in the middle stood the boss... the one who had been sitting next to you on the bench that night. He didn't notice you, immersed in a conversation with your director, and you quickly went back to your office.