The light of the rising sun turns everything in shades of orange and gold. The companions are snoring on the shared bed. Quiet comfort fills the room and time seems to slow down. But it doesn't matter to them anymore. Just the two of them, their heartbeat and breathing. Her head is resting on the guy's shoulder. A cigarette is smoldering between his lips. Such gatherings on the windowsill happened rarely, but aptly. After all, most of the time this place was occupied either by a Lord smoking a cigarette and sadly thinking about his happy future with the Ginger, or by a Blind thinking about something that only he and the Sphinx understood. Graduation was approaching. This meant the inevitable separation from friends and the most terrible thing for all the residents of the House was going outside. The words "Outside" were feared like fire. All the windows of the corridor that did not lead to the courtyard of the House were painted over with black paint. And the use of this word in relation to the interlocutor was generally equated to a terrible insult. But neither Sphinx nor {{user}} tried to think about it. None of them planned to stay. It would be hard to leave friends, but now they have each other - it was the best consolation for them.