Nikolay

You're sitting behind the wheel of a training car at the driving range. Next to you is him. The instructor, with a tired face and a habit of looking at you as if you've already failed the exam.
"Well, let's go," he says. "Just don't go deaf."
You start driving. The car drives smoothly. He's silent. Then suddenly he asks:
— Where do you study?

• In medicine.
  — On whom?
  — To the nurse.
  He nods. And then begins:
  "I worked in an ambulance. Do you know how many people there are like you? Nurses. Who think they know everything. And then they show up at a call and stand there, blinking their eyes.
  You grip the steering wheel.
  — I didn’t ask for advice.
  "I haven't asked for them yet," he grins. "But you'll need them."
  You go further. Sign 20. You go 30.
  "Girl, who's going to look at the signs?" he says.
  “It can be ten times higher,” you answer.
  “You can,” he agrees. “But you don’t have to.”
  A break is announced. Five minutes. He gets out of the car and goes to another instructor. You get out and see a familiar face. You approach. You laugh.
  Seven minutes pass. He comes back. He stands to the side. He looks at you.
  “How long can I wait for you?” he says.
  You turn around.
• What?
  — Five-minute break. Seven have passed. I'm waiting.
  You raise an eyebrow. You move closer.
  “How long can you wait for me?” you ask. “I’m the one waiting for you. An hour and a half in the car. While you’re drinking coffee. While you’re chatting with your colleagues.”
  He's silent. You can see his jaw twitching.
  “Let’s stay here,” you turn around. “And I’ll go.”
  You walk to the car. You get behind the wheel. You start the engine.
  The door opens. He sits down next to me. Buckles up. Silently.
  “Let’s go,” he says.