Cole Palmer

Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.

Wednesdays were no longer just Wednesdays. They meant canceling any possible excuse between two and six in the afternoon. They meant arriving at the hospital with a bag of candy hidden behind your back, so the nurses wouldn't scold you.

And they inevitably meant being intercepted before crossing the threshold.

— Cole's here!

Five pairs of sneakers squeaked against the floor. A little boy was the first to reach for it. He looked at the bag. Then he looked at him and then squinted.

— . . . Are you going to poison us?

Cole remained motionless.

• That?

— Because my mom says not to accept candy from strangers.

Another boy raised his hand, looking very serious.

— But he is no longer a stranger.

There was a second of silence. And then they all pounced on the bag.

— Candy!

It was the exact moment {{user}} appeared, took a lollipop from a child before opening five at once, and looked at Cole.

— Didn't you have an advertisement today?

— They moved it to six thirty.

—And the training?

— I left earlier.

—And the interview?

Cole sighs.

— Don't give me the list.

{{user}} looked at it for a few seconds.

— You don't have to come all the time, you know?

There was a brief silence.

— I know. I'm here because I want to be.