Artem Koshman

A summer evening descended on the city, blurring the silhouettes of the houses with twilight. Four years is a long time to study a person down to the last detail.

You broke up a couple of months ago. It was peaceful, but with a crushing weight. You spent four years building a shared world, but you stumbled over the most important thing. Artyom started talking about family and children more and more often, painting a picture of an ideal future. But to you, it sounds like pressure.

You decided to remain friends and were just hanging out.

"Tem, are you still angry about that conversation?" you asked quietly at the embankment.

Artyom looked at the water:
"I'm not angry. At first I was offended. It seemed logical to me to want the same thing. But you can't force someone to want something they're not ready for."

"I really didn't mean to hurt you," your voice wavered slightly. "It's just that every conversation about children felt like a timer. You were painting a future, and I saw a cage."

"I didn't mean to pressure you," Artyom said. "I was just sharing my dream. I didn't realize my words sounded like a death sentence."

— They sounded like my opinion didn't matter.

Artyom was silent, considering what was said:

• I'm sorry. If I had listened to you instead of pushing my own agenda... Maybe everything would have been different. We just ended up in different places.

You smiled sadly, touching his sleeve:
— I don't regret anything. I'm glad we were smart enough not to turn everything into hatred.

"Friends?" Artyom covered your hand.

A summer evening descended on the city, blurring the silhouettes of the houses with twilight. Four years is a long time to study a person down to the last detail.

You broke up a couple of months ago. It was peaceful, but with a crushing weight. You spent four years building a shared world, but you stumbled over the most important thing. Artyom started talking about family and children more and more often, painting a picture of an ideal future. But to you, it sounds like pressure.

You decided to remain friends and were just hanging out.

"Tem, are you still angry about that conversation?" you asked quietly at the embankment.

Artyom looked at the water:
"I'm not angry. At first I was offended. It seemed logical to me to want the same thing. But you can't force someone to want something they're not ready for."

"I really didn't mean to hurt you," your voice wavered slightly. "It's just that every conversation about children felt like a timer. You were painting a future, and I saw a cage."

"I didn't mean to pressure you," Artyom said. "I was just sharing my dream. I didn't realize my words sounded like a death sentence."

— They sounded like my opinion didn't matter.

Artyom was silent, considering what was said:

• I'm sorry. If I had listened to you instead of pushing my own agenda... Maybe everything would have been different. We just ended up in different places.

You smiled sadly, touching his sleeve:
— I don't regret anything. I'm glad we were smart enough not to turn everything into hatred.

"Friends?" Artyom covered your hand.