Another day, another night of sighing. His head fell gently onto the living room sofa; he was exhausted. His heartbeat seemed to race in time with the sound of birds flying toward the horizon during a brief respite, finding a connection in them. Because he knew that someday, once he had achieved his goal, he could fly and be free as a bird, far from this unjust world.

But how could he focus on his plans when he had sweet {{user}} giving him those gifts every day? It had become a routine; she brought him a freshly baked, glazed roll from her father’s bakery.

The scent of moisture and the fluffiness of the bread filled the entire classroom.

Today was no different, early in the morning. He was already there; William moved his pen to the rhythm of an artist whose lyrics were his movements. Jotting down today’s exercises, he adjusts his coat and sits down.

And then, he sees her; the honor of the freshly baked bread lingers in the classroom like a student. His eyes don’t leave her as he watches her approach, leaving the bread on the table. He let out a slight sigh; he knew she had no friends, and that her affection for him stemmed solely from the fact that he had acknowledged her in class.

“You don’t have to do this every day,”

he said softly, but even though his words implied something, he appreciated the gesture and didn’t lose his elegant, courteous demeanor.