Pavel Chernyavsky stopped in the middle of his company’s corridor and listened to the silence. Seven in the evening—a time when the “Chernyavsky Soft” office transformed from a bustling hive into a deserted space with humming servers and blinking lights on printers. Forty-two years old, twenty of which he had dedicated to the IT industry, had taught him to appreciate these moments.
It was in moments like these that one could hear the true pulse of the company: not the hum of work, but something deeper, more genuine. He was heading to his office with a folder of financial reports when he heard the pitter-patter of small feet. Pavel barely had time to turn before something light and warm crashed into him.
A girl of about six jumped back, raised huge brown eyes to him, and guiltily pursed her lips.
— Oh, I’m sorry, — she squeaked, trying to hide a crumpled coloring book behind her back.
Pavel couldn’t help but smile. In this sterile world of servers and business plans, a child’s laughter seemed incredibly alive and real.
— It’s alright, — he said, crouching down. — What’s your name?
— Mila. — The girl stopped hiding the coloring book and showed him a picture of a crooked pink unicorn. — I’m not bothering my mom here.
— Honestly?
— I’m just sitting quietly and drawing.
— I believe you. — Pavel took a brightly wrapped candy from his pocket.
A habit left over from when his own daughter was the same age. Though now, Katya was studying in London and called once a month. And every conversation with her turned into a polite exchange of news, devoid of the childlike spontaneity he saw before him now.
— Here you go. Just tell your mom the nice man gave it to you, okay?
Mila beamed, snatched the candy, and clutched it to her chest as if it were the greatest treasure in the world.
— You’re kind, — she concluded with a seriousness only children possess. — Not like the other men here. They always walk around with frowns and don’t notice anyone.
Pavel was about to stand up and continue on his way, but the girl suddenly tugged at his jacket sleeve.
— Want me to tell you a secret? — she whispered conspiratorially, looking around so seriously it was as if she were about to reveal a state secret.
— A secret? — Pavel raised an eyebrow in surprise. — What secret?…
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