I. The walk there isn’t that bad.

 

He turns his head to the right, looks up, looks down, and walks past the building. He knows she’s there. Easy enough.

 

Then the fucking light turns red.

 

He doesn’t look back, but he feels it on his back. Burning.

 

The walk home is worse.

 

Much worse.

 

He looks left, up, down — doesn’t matter.

 

The building is still there.

 

He can’t not look at it.

 

“Is this even the right building?” the idiot asks himself. “She’s probably not stupid enough to already be here like I am. And if she is… which window is hers?”

 

Finally he gets past it.

 

Now the song lyrics start fucking with him too.

 

“Before you cry again, just tell me why you never write…”

 

When I get home, I’ll listen to it again.

 

For the thousandth time.

​

​

II. Reality and Fantasy

​

Reality:

After the workout, the idiot decides to tie his windbreaker around his waist and walk home in just a T-shirt.

 

Not because of the walk home.

 

Because of the crosswalk.

 

Right after lifting weights, a man still looks the way he’ll miss looking an hour later.

 

He hates being cold, but right now it feels worth it.

 

Maybe, through some ridiculous accident, they’ll run into each other.

 

Fantasy:

Things have been rough for her lately.

 

Because of deadlines, she has to start working on contracts early in the morning.

 

For some strange reason, she gets up and walks to the window overlooking the crosswalk.

 

She notices a guy outside standing in the cold like a complete idiot, waiting for the light to turn green in nothing but a T-shirt.

 

At first, that’s all she notices.

 

Then:

 

“Not bad…”

 

The focus sharpens.

 

“But wait… it’s this idiot…”

 

“…for his age, hmm…”

 

“…if only he didn’t push so hard.”

 

She sits back down at her desk.

 

 

Part III. Csabi goes to train

 

By morning, the idiot was gone.

 

He looked into the mirror, and Csabi was looking back at him.

 

It wasn’t a good feeling or a bad one. It was simply that the weight was no longer sitting on his neck.

 

From today on, it’s Csabi who goes to the gym.

 

He’s been doing it for decades. Not the way other people do, constantly talking about sports and active lifestyles with shining eyes. He just does it because it has to be done. Like breathing. Eating. Drinking.

 

He doesn’t really enjoy those anymore either.
But they’re necessary.

 

The usual route.
Metro. Walking toward the destination.

 

His path runs between all kinds of buildings.

 

He doesn’t look right or left. Not down or up.

 

He looks ahead.

 

On the way back, he stops at the crosswalk. The light is red.

 

Buildings across the street.

 

“How many buildings are there in this city?” he asks himself.

 

But these are just buildings.

 

There is nothing for him inside any of them.

 

Just ordinary buildings.

 

Then something flashes through his mind:

 

“What a woman.”

 

Beautiful outside and inside.

 

Whoever has her should appreciate how lucky they are.