When I open the door and enter, you are talking about the links between Russian politics and sport. You get distracted, turn your head and something flickers in your eyes. I don't have time to analyze it, the moment is too brief, but I keep that in mind till the end of the lecture.

("My intuition somehow told me that you would come, but I didn't have expectations, cause you weren't there when my lecture began. When I saw you, it was like "Wow, she came! Oh, stop it, you should focus!")

There are no spare chairs, so I sit on a window sill. Fortunately, by the way, cause it's quite low and people's backsides don't let me see you very often. I'm listening to your voice, occasionally look at your hands and eyes. Sometimes I get distracted and forget to follow the subject, cause it's too hard not to remember these very hands holding me three months ago. Closer to the end a girl stands up and leaves, bringing her excuses to you. I take her seat, trying to create a question in a Q&A session. Everybody's already asked theirs when I start to unfold mine in broken French. I see you desperately trying to follow my thought, then with a relief tapping something on your keyboard. You almost don't look at me while answering, and thanks for that, actually.

You approach me in the hall, where I dumbly stare at book covers and listen to your colleagues laughing at your jokes. "Salut! Привет! Как дела?"- you smile happily. Oh, small talk, please, not you. We exchange some senseless phrases and you admit you have a dinner with your friend, so sorry, see you tomorrow. And I don't do it intentionally, but the way to subway doesn't have a lot of options, so for ten minutes I follow your white backpack and a red coat of the girl beside you. I feel like I am seventeen again, watching the guy I love walking with my best friend. Years pass, but people don't change. So sorry. See you tomorrow.