***

The man's words inspired Toby.

The world no longer seemed sullen and evil to the guy. On the contrary, all the colors shone so brightly that it hurt his eyes. And everything around him seemed to rejoice with him.

Even the perpetually frowning guard at the entrance smiled openly and affectionately. And the employees of the eighth floor behaved surprisingly friendly and friendly all day.

The working hours flew by almost imperceptibly.

Running errands, Toby was surprised to note that the sun had long since changed its position in the sky, and was now looking into the western windows of the office.

It wasn't long before the end of the workday.

He had to deliver a few more envelopes and he could go home.

After skimming through the letters, Toby found several bills addressed to Bjorn and decided to leave them in the man's office.

The spacious room with the gorgeous view of the city center was empty. And Toby, closing the door firmly behind him, went over to the desk.

Leaving the bills on the perfectly clean tabletop, the guy looked around, and his heart clenched treacherously with longing for the man he loved.

Everything in the room, from the neatly stacked papers on the shelves to the abstract paintings on the walls, reminded him of a man. But Toby was especially excited by the smell of expensive cologne. Quite elusive, light and almost imperceptible, he caressed the soul, causing a dreamy smile on the guy's lips.

Probably, Toby could have stood like this for several days. But a noise outside the door scared him off, and the guy hurried out of the office.

In the reception area he ran into the head of the advertising department and his deputy.

The men briefly greeted the courier and continued their conversation. But when Toby was already at the door, Herr Hansen stopped him.

"You worked in the archive, didn't you?" he asked, scanning Toby with his eyes.

The guy nodded, and the man smiled with satisfaction.

"Good. You're coming with us."

Herr Hansen turned to his deputy and, taking a folder from him, headed for the exit.

Toby had no choice but to follow the men, who, much to his surprise, were discussing Bjorn.

"Not only does this asshole no longer support our gatherings, but he also refuses to introduce us to his new girlfriend. Apparently, this lady had completely turned his head."

"Come on," the second man grinned, stopping in front of the elevator and pressing the button. "It's not the first time. I've known him since high school. He's been hitting on every hottie he meets, and every time he loses his head in passion. You'll see, in two weeks everything will be back to normal."

"You're wrong. There are rumors that Bjorn will return to Denmark with his fiancee. Mr. Larsen's daughter has had her eye on him for a long time. I'm sure they won't sign the contract without an engagement. And that's where the problems can begin."

"What other problems?" Herr Hansen's deputy was surprised.

"Oh, come on! Bjorn will be caught between two fires and might forget about the bar for a while. That's not going to make him easygoing. I even feel a bit sorry for him."

The men laughed and entered the elevator, and Toby slipped in after them.

He hardly listened to the men. Lost in his thoughts, the guy dreamed of an early meeting with Bjorn. But the last phrases of the company's employees made his heart treacherously shrink with fear.

However, Toby immediately tried to banish any unnecessary worries.

Bjorn is not what they say he is.

Yes, in some ways he's flighty and fickle, but he's not a scoundrel. He is never one to play with other people's feelings in such a tasteless and low way. He is never one to hurt... He...

Wouldn't he?

Toby shook his head.

No! Of course not! It's Bjorn! He's a good man. And he...

Longing pricked his soul. A poisoned thorn stuck in his mind, disturbing his imagination with all sorts of nasty things and knocking the guy out of his rut.

Still, Toby tried not to panic. He pulled himself together and continued to work. He ran errands for the head of the advertising department, poked around in the archive, searched for old contracts, stared at the flickering monitor screen and squashed the germ of jealousy and fear in his soul.

The guy returned home tired and exhausted. And then he couldn't sleep for a long time, endlessly replaying in his mind the conversation he had heard in the office.

It was only towards dawn that Toby's consciousness finally gave up and turned off. But sleep did not bring him any peace. So in the morning, when the alarm clock rang, Toby felt sick.

The guy's eyes itched and hurt. His throat dried, and his cheeks burned as if he'd been out in the cold for hours.

Having somehow gathered himself, Toby put on a jacket and, taking a scarf with him, went to work.

The bus was agonizingly slow. It crawled along the icy road like a wounded snail, and Toby, peering at the gray landscape outside the window, tried to suppress the fear growing in his chest.

The guy didn't understand what caused this oppressive, gnawing feeling, but he couldn't get rid of the nasty feeling of emptiness growing in his soul.

The front of the company building was sparsely populated. A few workers hurried to the entrance, hid behind the revolving glass doors and, applying their electronic passes to the dark panels built into the turnstile, moved to the elevator.

Toby also went through the glass door, took a pass out of his pocket, put it to the panel, but instead of a welcoming green light, he saw an angry and furious flashing of a red light bulb.

He didn't even realize what had happened right away.

A glitch in the system? Some kind of stupid joke? A malfunction in the turnstile itself?

He tried again, but again it didn't work.

Toby stood in front of the turnstile, batting his eyelashes in bewilderment, until a security guard approached him.

"What, buddy, is there a problem?"

"I think so," the guy said quietly, looking at the man confused. "I just don't understand why."

The guard took Toby's pass and called him to follow him. The guy obediently followed. A few minutes later, the man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Guy, you don't work here anymore," he said with a twinge of regret.

"What do you mean, not working?" Toby asked dumbfounded.

Everything inside him tightened. His heart clenched into a ball and thumped against his ribs so desperately and hard that Toby couldn't hold back a heavy sigh.

"It's marked «fired» in your file. You did something wrong, didn't you?" The man asked without rancor.

But Toby didn't hear him.

There was a buzzing in his ears. Blood rushed to his face, and his stomach twisted into a tight knot.

"This must be a mistake," he said, looking at the guard with incomprehension. "This can't be happening. I didn't do anything wrong. Please check again."

The guard nodded and quickly typed something on the keyboard. He stared at the monitor for a few moments, and then shook his head.

"There is no mistake. You're fired today. Herr Dalgaard personally signed the order. This is indicated in the documents. Here," the man turned the monitor to Toby, "you can see for yourself."

Toby looked at the flickering screen and swallowed hard.

There was no mistake.

Bjorn actually fired him.

Like a bad movie, Herr Hansen's words immediately popped into his head: Bjorn's business trip, engagement, the man's flighty attitude to passion, and Bjorn's own words that, having achieved his goal, he loses interest in the toy.

Toby was a toy. A dirty, battered doll that a man found on the street. Picked it up, warmed it, and coddled it. And when he saw a glimmer of life in its glass eyes, he threw it away.

The heart stopped for a moment. It froze in the chest, refusing to believe what was happening, and hit again. Only now there was no coherent rhythm in the heartbeat. The gentle melody of happiness did not sound in the soul. And only the darkness bristling with despair peeked through the cracks that covered the heart.

Toby didn't remember turning in his pass, didn't remember leaving the building, didn't remember getting home.

As if in a dream, in some kind of terrible suspended animation, he walked almost the entire city and did not even notice it. The rain that had begun to fall soaked him to the skin, but the indifference that seized both his heart and soul hid the guy from the inclement weather that raged in the city.

The damp, cold apartment greeted Toby with sullen silence. And, probably, for the first time in several months, the guy heard its heavy tired sigh. And then laughter. Loud, desperate, full of pain and encroaching fear.

Toby didn't realize right away that it was he himself who was laughing. Until tears, until a pain in his stomach. Laughing to keep from crying and to avoid sinking into the rising hysteria caught in his throat.

And then came the silence. A terrible and eerie. It was the silence of the earth, the silence of the water that had swallowed an inept swimmer. It is the silence of the heart when it has nothing else to beat for.

Toby was silent. As if he had turned into a ghost, he wandered around the cramped apartment, unable to find a place for himself. Everything around him was alien and hostile. And he wanted to run. Anywhere, as fast as possible... but there was nowhere to go.

And then the silence was replaced by a scream. A fierce, soul-wrenching scream that turned to sobs.

And only one thought continued to stand out among the successive crazy ideas.

Need to move on.

Have... to move... forward...