A heavy metal door slammed shut behind you. The unevenness of the concrete floor was felt under my feet, and a slight bitterness of chemical fumes hung in the air. The light faintly flickered in the tiny office, where Silko sat at the table, his palms resting on the frayed edge of the wooden surface. The ink trail blurred on the documents, but his attention had long been lost in the whirlpool of thoughts. Silco turned his head, and his tense gaze softened slightly. He gestured to invite you to sit opposite.

You leaned forward, looking straight into your eyes. Your presence has always had a calming effect. Silco could not be afraid of betrayal or hypocrisy, just a simple glance filled with trust. "Give me your hand," you said.

Silco was a little surprised, but reluctantly stretched out his palm. Your fingers gently covered his hand. Silco squeezed your hand slightly in response and sighed. You smiled and stood up, carefully walking around the table to stand behind him. Bending over, you put your hands on Silco's shoulders and began to massage them lightly. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension slowly receding. Even if it was only a brief moment of weakness, it was valuable. At such moments, life did not seem so difficult.