022.05 VERONIKA – Paper Walls 11 Sept at 05:00 – 12:30

I'm sitting at a table in the diner and sipping an espresso, even though the heat in here is suffocating. The sun beats down on the windows and floods the whole space with a golden light that creates an almost unpleasantly heavy atmosphere. The air is still, saturated with the scent of chlorine and coffee.

Tony sits across from me, the folded papers from the union are bent into three parts. I notice how his palms are pressed from them. He looks tired, but still beautiful—that perfect skin of his and softly prominent cheekbones. I remind myself what Martina told me in therapy.

„Silence can be a space,“ I say aloud, watching the corners of his mouth rise in a tired smile.

I didn't want to shoot today. I have my camera in my bag, but today I just came to hang out. Breathe the same air as Tony. Be here.

Then it happens. Viktor and Tom walk into the buffet and stand at the counter. I hear Viktor order a double espresso – that sound is like a signal that the peace is over. I watch Tom catch sight of the papers in front of Tony, watch his eyes sweep across his chest. There is both worry and jealousy in that look. I feel my stomach tighten.

I've never felt completely comfortable around Tom. It probably has to do with how he and Tony react to each other. How they communicate without words. It's as if there's some kind of code between them that only they understand.

"I'll have to go," I tell Tony, gathering my things. I feel how much I miss Zuzajda. I could be home with her now, I could take her for a short walk. This feeling is worse than everything else.

As I'm leaving, I see them sitting down at the table. From the radio behind the counter, "It Must Have Been Love" by Roxette starts playing.

I catch a glimpse of Viktor placing a rubber band on Tony's table.

"Seven out, three in, don't forget," he says, and that touch of latex looks softer than those words. I'm not sure what it means, but it sounds intimate. Too intimate.

The clock shows noon. Outside, the hot air hits my face. I still recall that image – three guys at the table, touching feet under the table, something in their eyes I don't understand. Something that scares me because it's so intense. Friendship, tension, desire.

Something I don't have.