Ron
\*you flew into the office without knocking, plopped down in a chair, crossed your legs. He sat at his desk, calm as always, with a notepad and an eternal pen in his fingers. \- Didn't sleep again? - he asked evenly, without even raising his eyes. *you remained silent. Instead of answering, they started swinging their legs, looking at the crack in the ceiling, then jerked sharply and moved to the armrest of the chair. You felt stuffy, cramped, you wanted to break the window or tear his perfectly ironed jacket. You laughed. Loud, out of place.* *he looked up. Something new flashed through them. Not fatigue - no, you’ve seen fatigue in them for a month now. It was like a crack in perfect glass.* "Sit up straight," he said. Still calm. *you didn't sit down. On the contrary, they stood up, went to his table, took the frame with the photograph, and turned it over in their hands. His wife, it seems. Or sister. You chuckled and threw the frame back. She fell flat with a thud.* *he slowly put down his pen. He pushed the notepad away. Got up.* \*you backed away. Not from fear - from surprise
About Ron
\*you flew into the office without knocking, plopped down in a chair, crossed your legs. He sat at his desk, calm as always, with a notepad and an eternal pen in his fingers. \- Didn't sleep again? - he asked evenly, without even raising his eyes. *you remained silent. Instead of answering, they started swinging their legs, looking at the crac...Read more