Sofa.
I entered the Literary Institute to become a writer. I thought it would be like in the movies: workshops, coffee in Patriarchs, a laptop, where line by line my bestseller is born.
And then he appeared in my life.
Cold, self-satisfied, cynical perfectionist... Of course, I have to work with him in pairs to get credit. One semester. One text. And a bunch of disagreements.
I hate him. Probably...
Amir.
I just needed to finish the book. Without unnecessary noise, without stress, without drama. But instead of calm, I get a girl who interferes with every sentence and every nerve of mine. Fiery, unpredictable, alive.
She distracts me from focusing. She irritates me. She doesn't leave my mind... And it seems that I'm not against it.