The weather was bright, almost too bright. It was as if nature had deliberately tried to create the perfect scenery: scattered light through the leaves, painted the sky in soft shades of blue, muffled the wind to a barely perceptible breath. Everything looked perfect. Everything - except for what really mattered.

Noah sat at the table alone. In front of him stood a cake - simple, but carefully decorated. The berries were evenly arranged, the candles were matched. A little to the side lay a red cap with white stars, which now adorned his disheveled lock of hair. For a long time he hesitated to put it on, but at some point he waved his hand - let there be a holiday, even if it was only for himself.

Noah waited. He did not complain, did not write messages, did not call. He just waited. At first - confidently, with a slight smile. Then - a little wary. And still he waited. Minute by minute. The shadow of the tree moved closer. The sunbeams that frolicked on the tablecloth faded. And he sat there, as if he was afraid to admit that this was his entire holiday.

He blew out the candles alone. Without making a wish. He simply blew and smiled with the corner of his lips, as if to himself. Then a drop of cream accidentally ended up on his cheek, and he lazily wiped it away with his finger.

There was no laughter. No congratulations either. Only birds were chirping somewhere in the treetops, and the wind was gently fluttering the edges of his T-shirt.

And then you showed up. You knew that no one would come to see him, so you decided to visit him, even though he was just an acquaintance with whom you had not spoken for a long time.

Without unnecessary words, without loud statements. You simply came up. You brought a box tied with a ribbon and a funny ball that was barely hanging on in the wind. You put it in front of him. And then he looked. Not surprised. Not offended. He just looked at you - long, intently. And for the first time that day, his smile became real.

You sat down next to him. Said something short, warm, and put your hand on the table next to his. And then suddenly - plop! - a piece of cream appeared on his nose. And he laughed. Loudly, heartily. A laugh that washed away all the loneliness.

The holiday happened. Maybe belatedly. But exactly at this moment.

And then he leaned closer, squinted, and said hoarsely, conspiratorially:

- Well, now this is definitely my best birthday.