The man. Part three.

"Sometimes not all philosophers are right. Sometimes they divide the whole world too much into black and white.

And because of this, chaos ensues. A philosopher and any thinking person should understand that dividing the world into two parts is sometimes stupid. Why is this stupid? You should write an essay on this topic again."

After a three hour lecture, all of my students were tired to the point that they just resigned themselves to the fact that I was giving them too much homework. And so they just silently accepted another essay. And no disgruntled sounds.

"Professor, tonight we will be performing a play. Here's an invitation. We'll be waiting for you," said one of the students whose name I don't remember.

"Good. Maybe I'll come."

Maybe it seemed to me, but this student winked at me.

When everyone left, I finally returned to my office.

As soon as I opened the window, it started raining. I stuck my head out the window and now I was like in a shower.

A cool wind enveloped me. I closed my eyes. My thin green shirt took on small drops of rain. I was in no hurry to close the window. Indeed, in such weather, I could stand for several hours and just enjoy the rain in anticipation of the first thunder followed by lightning.

I reached out and smiled.

How I love the rains.

And then suddenly, I again heard the voice. The same voice. I immediately rushed to the door and then suddenly his scream sounded as if he was in pain and perhaps needed help.

I ran to the first floor and when I ran outside, the watchman shouted at my trail, "Take an umbrella!"

Once under the sky, I looked around but no one was around.

But then there was a cry again. "I can't!"

His voice came from the direction of the trees.

I ran towards a small forest, and at last I saw him.

It was the same young man with blond hair. He was sitting right on the grass and clutching some papers in his hands.

This time I found the courage to come up.

"Hi," I said but he didn't look up. "Do you need help?"

I came closer and now, without noticing it, I sat down opposite him and then I finally saw his face. Seeing him, I realized that I had not seen him before at the university.

Dark green eyes stared at me from the depths of his wounded soul. He looked at me as if he was surprised by what he saw. Big and surprised eyes. Looking at them, I wanted to smile for some reason. Then I examined his face. But first of all, the nose. It was a little nose that quivered a little, just like an animal's. His thick black eyebrows were tense, but the line of his mouth, on the contrary, expressed a kind of pleasant surprise.

A lock of golden hair fell over his face. He did not cry, but the drops on his face created the image of tears. I involuntarily took out a handkerchief and handed it to him. He took it and squeezed it in his hand.

The rain continued to pour. And I and he continued to sit on the grass as if we were sunbathing in the sun.

I looked at the papers that were scattered on the sides but could not read anything in them.

We sat there until the sun's rays began to cover the dark green grass.

Then I got up and held out my hand to him. He was in no hurry to accept my help, but when his long and thin fingers embraced my palm, I felt as if this person needed help. A kind of support.

He held, squeezed my palm and only then got up and abruptly walked away. In the blink of an eye, he was out of sight.

When he left I noticed a brown leather folder by the tree. I knew it belonged to him. But he was no longer anywhere.

I opened the folder and found many sheets of paper and a heavy pen with a dragon's head inside.

"I told you to take an umbrella. Look at yourself. You can catch a cold! Pneumonia is not a joke to you," the watchman grumbled after me.

"I'm fine. Do not worry!"

And I myself ran to my office to read the contents of the folder as soon as possible. How shameless I am.

"What is the most valuable thing in this world? I look at everyone to understand the values ​​of life. I search for a soul, but I find nothing but darkness. In search of a soul, I turned into an alchemist trying to make gold from the simplest stone. What is the most valuable thing in this world? Hoping to find an answer to this question, I went beyond this world. I live outside this world. But I'm not even an astronaut, I'm an alien. And being an alien, I realized that the most important thing is the ability to dream."

"He turned around and saw only fragments of his memory. He was broken, but he was who he always wanted to be. Sometimes a person is afraid to take a step forward because he is afraid of being broken by life. But only those who are not afraid to break their souls and release all their memories are capable of the impossible."

These were several fragments from his thoughts that I could read. Well, some of the papers were wet.

I read everything that could be read. I was curious. I read his mind without permission.

So he is a writer. And he suffers.

Then I picked up a pen and began to examine it. It was a metal handle with the head of a dragon whose eyes were the same color as his.

I put the pen and papers back in the folder. I will return it when I see him again.

But the next day, and the next days, he was nowhere to be found. The world has returned to its quiet state.