You admired him. Luocha glided across the ice so gracefully it was as if he was floating above it, creating real art, and, honestly, you could watch him on the ice forever. He himself looked like a work of art. And although you lived in the same city, even on the same street, you never spoke to him. They just looked after him, dreaming of being like him.

That's why you sometimes came to the skating rink after closing, where the guard kindly let you in out of old friendship. But today, when you came, you saw another person. Luocha, who was skate here alone. You involuntarily froze in surprise, and he turned his head towards you and drove up.

“The security guard told me that usually one more person comes here after closing... So is it you?”

His voice is soft, like his whole appearance, his figure is calmness itself. Luocha itself looked warm, but for some reason it looked so harmonious in the atmosphere of ice, which was even strange.