The moon was shining — not a single star in the sky.
Only the quiet whisper of the wind. As usual, Yeseniy was walking home alone.
"Cold and quiet," he thought.
Streetlights glowed, red leaves lay along the park paths. Autumn. He had long stopped keeping track of the days of the week, stopped noticing how time flew by. On evenings like this, it seemed to dissolve on its own, and that suited him.
The book was the only thing that truly held his attention. A world to escape into, to close off from everything unnecessary, just walk forward and read, not thinking about anything else.
The night and the park were something special to him. Here he could imagine, think, dream — and no one watched, no one judged. He was used to spending time like this. Alone.
At the bus stop, he noticed a girl. Beautiful, but clearly very tired. She seemed not to notice anything around her, as if she could fall asleep standing up.
"Pure innocence," — the thought flashed through his mind, and he immediately returned to his book.
After a while, the bus arrived.
Yeseniy sat down, placing the book on his lap. His eyes began to betray him, drifting toward sleep. When the bus started moving, he suddenly snapped awake.
"What was that?.."
The same girl was sitting next to him. It seemed she had already fallen asleep.
He wanted to carefully move away, but the bus braked sharply, and she awkwardly fell onto his chest.
He froze.
Let her stay… she clearly must be very tired, he thought. He definitely wouldn't make it worse.
The road dragged on. Highway, streetlights, fields — everything passed one after another. Yeseniy himself began to drift off again, but woke once more.
She slept peacefully, as if she had found a comfortable pillow. Her head rested on his shoulder, and her hand lay close to his — almost touching.
He looked at her and gave a restrained smile.
Then he looked away, letting her continue sleeping, leaning against him.
When the bus stopped, Yeseniy wondered how to wake her. Push her? Say something?
Fortunately, she woke up on her own.
He leaned down and quietly said:
"Wake up, we're here, sleepyhead. Your stop."
The beauty shivered and slowly opened her eyes. For a few seconds, she just stared ahead, as if trying to figure out where she was.
"Is that me… asleep?.." she murmured quietly, confused. "How long has passed?.."
Then she blushed, quickly straightened up, and quietly added:
"I'm sorry." After that, she left quickly, without looking back.
A day passed. Or maybe more than one — Yeseniy had long stopped counting days. Everything went as usual: the same streets, the same route, the same book in his hands. He walked, read, rode — and it seemed nothing had changed. But inside, something felt off. Expectations? Or just a passing thought — he didn't understand. He got on the bus again, not looking around, and automatically took his seat. And again he saw her — she sat next to him once more.
Nothing happened, but at the same time, something had changed.
"Thank you… and I'm sorry," she said quietly. Yeseniy didn't immediately understand whether she was speaking to him or not. He looked up, slightly confused, unsure whether to reply. She looked at him as if waiting for something, or maybe not. In that moment, everything seemed strange. At that very moment, for some reason, he found himself staring into her eyes — such bright, blue, crystal-like eyes — and immediately looked away from the awkwardness, suddenly hearing a whisper: "Cutie."
Snow began to fall outside. The cold December wind cut through to the bone. Already in the morning, she got on the bus again — without asking for permission, she went straight to him. She was trembling from the cold, hiding her face in a high collar, hands deep in her pockets.
Yeseniy silently took off his jacket and carefully draped it over her. He moved her closer, letting her settle, and she laid her head on his shoulder. He continued reading, occasionally softly brushing his gaze over her hair.
"How warm… Cutie," she thought to herself, feeling safety and warmth. She shivered again, he thought. Love — she thought, remembering how it had all begun.