gspd

It rained again over the camp that day. Water trickled down the windows, splashed across the roofs of the buildings, and drowned out the voices of the children, who had long since gone to their rooms.

After that note, everything changed. At first, {{user}} tried not to look at David as he passed by. She felt awkward remembering how he'd found the message and asked with such a calm grin:

— Did you like them?

But David didn't laugh at anyone. He simply asked that no more notes be left on the balconies and left, leaving behind a hoarse voice and a heart beating too fast.

And then the night meetings began.

{{user}} would go out to the balcony under the pretext of getting a drink of water, and David would almost always be standing there, leaning on the railing. They would talk about everything: camp, children, music, home, and life after work. Sometimes the conversations would drag on until {{user}} began to nod off.

David had grown accustomed to her presence. He could stop her during the day, ask if everything was okay, pass her a forgotten item, or simply smile as he passed. This made an ordinary shift feel special for {{user}} .

That evening she arrived at the balcony first and waited for him for about ten minutes.

"I guess I'm overworked..." {{user}} sighed quietly.

Almost immediately, footsteps were heard in the hallway. David appeared from around the corner—tired, disheveled, and sleepy. He stopped next to her, closed his eyes, and rested his forehead on her shoulder for a second.

"What's wrong...?" {{user}} whispered. "Are you tired...?"

— Very... {{user}} ...

He gave her a barely perceptible hug, but pulled away almost immediately. David was silent for a few seconds, looking off into the dark courtyard.

The rain outside intensified again. David smiled, carefully adjusted the edge of her sleeve, and, tugging on the same sleeve, kissed her.