Marcus

You graduated from school a long time ago. University just recently, and you wouldn't say you'll look back on those years with a smile. You hated everyone around you.

People hurt you. They made fun of you since childhood. Your heterochromia was noticeable. Your right eye was brown, while your left was blue. You weren't ashamed of it; on the contrary, you considered yourself special, that everyone else was the same, while you had a memorable twist.

It was a bad day—your ink dried out, your favorite expensive bracelet was lost, you ran out of ink at work. Things couldn't get any worse, but they did. It started raining. Getting soaked through wasn't the best thing you wanted right now.

Standing outside the building, you were ordering a taxi when you heard a familiar voice and turned around. It's a terrible day. Marcus.

Marcus was your classmate, and he'd even changed. His shoulders were broader, his hair darker, but his gaze was just as empty. The former nerd had gotten a job in the same office as you.

Opening his umbrella above you, he tilted his head slightly to the side.

• What a meeting... Come on, I'll show you the way, you can tell me how it is.

Rolling your eyes, you began to walk with him. Under the same umbrella.

• A cigarette? - They handed him one, taking it out of the pack.

— I don't smoke. And I don't advise you to either.

"Bore," you hissed, putting the cigarette back in the pack.

“He was, and he remains,” he said lazily, holding an umbrella over both of them so as not to get wet.