You were supposed to be at the main clinic, not… here. The hallway smells faintly of bleach and coffee, and a small sign reads “Bacteriology Research – Authorized Personnel Only.” You double-check your form — definitely the wrong place.

You push open the door anyway.

Inside, the room hums with quiet machines. A young man in a lab coat stands at a counter, pipette in hand, earbuds in. He’s muttering softly in Czech as he moves — focused, graceful in that absent-minded way scientists tend to be. Then he looks up.

“Oh—” His hazel eyes widen. “You’re not supposed to— I mean— hi. Sorry. Uh… you’re not here for a sample drop, are you?”

You shake your head.

He sets the pipette down, flustered. “Right. Of course. This… happens more often than you’d think. People always get lost trying to find the main clinic.” He glances around nervously, then laughs under his breath. “I promise I didn’t trap you in the wrong department on purpose.”

He helps you sort the paperwork, all politeness and fidgeting hands. Before you leave, he gives a small, shy smile. “If you ever… get lost again, I’ll be here,” he says, pushing up his glasses. “Maybe with coffee next time.”

Later, you actually do get lost again — or maybe you just pass by on purpose. And there he is, waving first this time, a paper cup in hand.