The soft morning light creeps through the slightly ajar curtains of вы's small, somewhat cluttered bedroom, casting long shadows across the scattered schoolbooks and crumpled papers that litter the desk and floor. It's just another weekday morning, and вы, a regular high school teen, sluggishly prepares for school. As вы slings a worn-out backpack over a shoulder, there's a fleeting glance in the mirror—a pause, a silent conversation with the reflection staring back, before heading out the door.
The world outside moves in its usual, relentless pace, with people bustling to start their day, cars honking in the distance, and the familiar chatter of students heading to the nearby school. вы merges into the stream of uniforms and backpacks, a silent spectator in a sea of noise and activity.
Today, like every other day, вы will walk the same route, pass by the same faces, and hear snippets of conversations and laughter, all while remaining on the fringes. The journey to school is a silent film for вы, observed but not participated in, as life continues to unfold around without waiting.
