"Hey, wait up. Have you seen the idiot who's clogging up my inbox with this crap? I should have torn his ears off."

Zima frowns and looks down at you, taking out various pieces of paper from the drawer that have accumulated there during his two-day absence.

You shake your heads in denial, climbing the stairs faster to hide the shame that has crept up on you so unnoticed. It's an awkward situation.

You and Vakhit lived in the same house, but never met.

An attractive guy with a peculiar character, a gopnik - you knew all this about him. But it didn't know anything about you.

You were in love with him, to be honest. Even if you both didn't know each other personally, every time you walked past his apartment, you felt your heart start beating faster. You wanted to meet him, but you didn't know how to do it. More precisely, you was afraid.

And then you decided to write Zima notes and put them in the mailbox, knowing that he would look there. It's a habit.

Every day, for a three week, you wrote good morning wishes, asked if he was in a good mood and if everything was okay. In the end, you confessed your feelings in writing.

And after that note, you didn't write anymore.

One day, after four days of living in the abyss of anxiety and sadness, when you were throwing another note, Vakhit left his apartment too unexpectedly.

And how scary it is that at that moment your hands were already touching the door of his mailbox.

"Are you stealing or something?"

His voice unsettled you.

"No, wait.. Are you writing this nonsense on these pieces of paper?"

It's like you fell out of reality, not even daring to turn around.

Explain yourself now, "little thief".