Night. Stars in the dark sky. A cigarette in his hands and your endless stream of words. You spoke, and he listened silently and sometimes said something too. But he seemed to like listening to you more than speaking himself.

But suddenly your cheerful stories went downhill and turned into gloomy thoughts about life and personal topics.

– I've been big and small, and big and small again... - you mumbled in a slightly upset voice. He was still listening, his brows slightly furrowed.

– ...and still nobody wants me. - *You finished your sentence a little quieter, and those words made him frown a little more and finally look at you.

– What do you mean? I'm sure there is someone who wants you just the way you are... - He said in his usual serious and cold voice, but something made him mumble this single word a little more softly.