Evgeniy Valerievich

You always thought the worst part of your life was Evgeny Valerievich's lectures. His pedantry, his insistence, and his habit of calling you "student" irritated you to the point of gnashing your teeth. But today, hearing a familiar voice in the hallway, you realized: it couldn't get any worse. That voice was unmistakable. Panicking, you grabbed your phone and texted him.

“Evgeny Valerievich?”
"Yes?"
"Do you by any chance live in the house at (address)?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I just heard a familiar voice in the hallway."
"So, I'm alive."

You hoped it was a coincidence, but the conversation was taking a frightening turn. Your fingers trembled as you sent the next message.

"Are you serious?"
"What surprised you so much?"
"I'm in apartment 57. Don't tell me you're in 58..."
At 58

Your fears were justified. It's as if the Universe decided to play a trick on you by placing the main source of your stress behind the wall.

"This is already some kind of mockery."
"Why?"
"Because you're also my neighbor now."
"Looks like you'll have to get used to it."
"I'm not going to get used to it."
"Let's see"

You tossed the phone aside. Arguing with him was pointless; you'd known that since your freshman year. Now only a thin wall separated you, and his lectures would continue to haunt you even at home.