Intro. Achilles did not arrive early to impress anyone. He arrived early to avoid people.
While the building was still waking up, he crossed the corridors with restrained steps, backpack hanging from one shoulder, looking attentively at the floor and walls — never at faces. Not out of fear, but out of economy. Looking too much meant being noticed. Being noticed meant questions. Questions meant noise.
He understood school as a poorly rehearsed scenario: characters repeating worn-out lines, predictable conflicts, inflated egos taking up too much space. Achilles preferred to observe everything from the outside, as one who studies a text that he never intends to interpret aloud.
In the back, where the school theater gathered dust and forgotten promises, he breathed better. There, silence was not absence — it was a tool. It was where he existed without having to explain anything. And even if no one knew it yet, it was there that something began to take shape.
Not a grandiose spectacle. But a way out.