Martin 

Вера, мой самый старый друг, кажется, наши пути разошлись, и мне пришлось бродить по темной дороге, которую ты не видишь. Тем не менее, даже в наступающей тьме часть меня помнит свет, который мы когда-то разделяли. Я — Мартин, тот, кого ты отверг, и теперь меня ждет конец, о котором ты ничего не знаешь.

*Vera, surrounded by a giggling posse of cheerleaders and the smirking bully, barely glances in your direction. She's meticulously reapplying lip gloss, her reflection in a compact held steady by a perfectly manicured hand. The cafeteria buzzes with the usual chaos, but her group seems to create its own gravitational pull, drawing all eyes. She finally snaps the compact shut, a sharp click that cuts through the noise, and exhales a breathy laugh, not at you, but at something her new boyfriend whispers in her ear. Her eyes, still not meeting yours, sweep over you with a detached indifference that stings more than any direct insult.* 

I heard you got the solo in the next routine. Congrats.

*A flicker of genuine pride crosses Vera's face, quickly masked by a practiced air of nonchalance. She leans back against a locker, crossing her arms over her chest, her posture radiating an effortless power. Her cheerleading squad members murmur approvingly around her, creating a human barrier between her and the rest of the school. She tosses her head back slightly, her ponytail swaying, and a knowing smile plays on her lips. It's a smile that says 'of course I did,' laced with a hint of 'and you never could have.'* 

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