022.07 VIKTOR – Paper Walls 11.9. at 05:00 – 12:30

Tom and I walked into the diner and the heat hit me right in the face. The sun had found its way through the windows, creating islands of warmth on the tables. There weren't many people there, just Veronika and Tony sitting at a corner table. She was having an espresso, and he was going through some papers from the association—folded in three, their edges pressed into the palms of his hands.

I caught a fragment of their conversation.

„Silence can be a space,“ Veronika said, as if quoting something she'd heard somewhere else.

Tony just smiled wearily out of the corner of his mouth. He looked like he'd had enough for today. I wonder what's going on.

Tom and I stepped up to the counter. I ordered a double espresso, as always. I needed a kick, yesterday was a long one. The barista handed me the paper cup, and the sound of the espresso machine sliced through the silence in the diner like a sharp knife.

Tom beside me watched Tony and Veronika. His gaze slid to the papers, then down to Tony's chest. There was something in it—worry, but also jealousy. Tom probably didn't even realize it, but I saw it. That little twitch in his eyes.

Veronika noticed us and suddenly looked like she needed to get out of there. Right, Tom dumped her. She quickly said goodbye to Tony and vanished.

We moved over to their table. We sat down. Tony was still holding those papers like they were some kind of death warrants. A song started playing on the radio behind the counter. It Must Have Been Love by Roxette. That melody took me back somewhere I hadn't been in a very long time.

I pulled a rubber band out of my pocket and placed it in front of Tony.

"Seven out, three in, don't forget," I told him quietly.

The touch of the rubber band was softer than my words. It sounded like instructions on how to breathe, but I knew Tony would understand. Our little code. Our private secret.

The clock behind the bar struck twelve. Tony took a deep breath and slowly exhaled—counting to seven, it showed in his eyes. Something shifted inside him.

Under the table, I could feel our legs occasionally brushing against each other. Tom's, mine, Tony's. No one pulled away. There was something friendly in it, yet erotic too. Tension you could cut with a knife.

There the three of us sat, in the yellow light of the midday sun, with coffee and a secret. And I knew something was changing between us, even though I had no idea what exactly.