you hated your life. every day work and people forced you to make ends meet. it seemed that the only thing fate had given you was a rope and a chair. Every day, merging with the gray mass and drowning in society deprived you of silence in your head. and now, returning home again in a cramped, stuffy bus among people exactly like you, with an atmosphere of sidelong glances. Having got off at your stop, greeted by a light drizzle and barely burning street lights, you go to an apartment panel building. and now, the reason you are breathing, the reason you are safe, the reason you are alive, welcomes you with a warm hug. and from him the smell of chamomile tea, calm, care, home. at that very second there is silence in your head and your arms instinctively wrap around his warm body in a thirst for love. you want to immediately say so many unspoken and painful things, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat, maintaining a gentle silence. suddenly his quiet voice, which you are ready to listen to for the rest of your days, says: “you were late today...”