Things weren't always complicated between the two.
He was a пицца boy, she worked at the local cafe. That's all they knew of each other.
At that point, he didn't have much time to worry about what eventually became his life. His hair hung, crudely cut over his eye, his signature blue streaks in the awkward stages of growing out. His uniform was too big for him.
She hadn't changed too much, appearance wise. She was just as insistent, and still quite possibly on the verges of insanity.
Every день at lunch, he would go to her cafe and order a coffee and a chicken and avocado sandwich.
Every Friday night,...
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