After looking away for just one second, the young man got into a car accident.

Ivan was rushing to a meeting at the office. Traffic jam.

“Damn it!” Ivan cursed out loud.

Two seconds to make a decision, and he was already cutting through the back streets.

*I hope they haven’t blocked anything off back here,* Ivan thought.

A message arrived on his phone.

Taking his eyes off the road, he began reaching for the phone, which was always buried somewhere in his car, cluttered with all kinds of junk. The next second, Ivan slammed on the brakes.

Right in front of his car stood a little girl, about six years old.

And to his right was a traffic light that had turned red at least ten seconds earlier.

“Damn it! This is the last thing I need right now!”

Ivan jumped out of the car and ran to the front bumper.

The girl was lying on the ground. There was no blood.

*Good thing it’s still cold enough for winter hats and puffy jackets,* Ivan thought.

That meant she probably hadn’t been hurt too badly.

“Hey!” he said, gently shaking her shoulders.

“Hey! Hey, you! Don’t you watch where you’re going?” he continued.

Ivan picked the girl up in his arms.

Luckily, this was the back side of the courtyard, and there was nobody around.

And where had she even come from? It was as if she had appeared out of thin air.

Ivan placed her in the back seat of his car.

She was unconscious.

“Hey! What’s wrong with you?” he asked nervously, shaking her.

“Come on, come on, wake up! I have a meeting to get to! Hey, you!”

The girl slowly opened her eyes and…

looked around.

Where was she?

“Hello,” the girl said very quietly.

“Well, hi. You really scared me. Listen, how are you? Are you okay? Does anything hurt? Can you get home by yourself?” Ivan rattled off.

“Uh-huh,” the girl answered softly.

“Do you live nearby?”

The girl nodded.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Mom is far away,” the girl answered calmly in the same quiet voice.

“Typical deadbeat mothers. They have kids and then nobody bothers taking care of them,” Ivan muttered under his breath.

“What, is she working a shift somewhere?” he continued.

“And your dad? Is he home?”

“Mister, please don’t be angry. Please don’t tell Daddy. He’ll get mad,” the girl said, her voice stronger now.

“I don’t have time to worry about your dad right now. All right, go on home.”

Ivan helped her out of the car.

The girl reached into the pocket of her coat and started searching for something.

Then she held out her tiny fist toward Ivan.

“Mom said that when people are angry, you should give them something kind.”

“Here, take this.”

She opened her hand.

Inside was a large two-hole button with a black smiley face drawn on it in permanent marker.

Ivan quickly stuffed the gift into his pocket and shouted after her:

“Be careful out there! There are plenty of idiots on the roads!”

The girl ran across the street, and Ivan stepped on the gas and hurried to his meeting.

—

Running into the office, he was already taking off his jacket with one hand while digging through a folder for the necessary report with the other.

He wasn’t late. He still had about five minutes to spare. But he didn’t want to stand there during his presentation panting like a hunting dog after a chase.

He approached his colleague Alexandra, an old acquaintance.

His heart was pounding.

“So, how’s the boss today? In a good mood?”

Sasha replied that she hadn’t seen him yet that morning, but judging by the office rumors, everything seemed fine.

Ivan was an ordinary employee in one of hundreds of thousands of offices where people bustled around like ants among thousands of others just like him.

Today was an important day.

His candidacy was being considered at this meeting.

He was expected to be promoted.

Ivan wanted the position badly.

It would be a new chapter in his life.

He would no longer be an ordinary employee.

He would become a manager.

*Let everyone who never believed in me choke on their tears,* Ivan thought.

The meeting began.

People discussed issues, debated, asked questions, answered questions.

Everything proceeded as usual.

Ivan’s boss was a progressive man. He often traveled abroad for training, and he liked progressive-thinking people working under him.

“You know,” the boss began, turning toward the window, “lately I’ve noticed people becoming more and more irresponsible. They create problems, then hide from them, and afterward they scream about fairness and ask what’s wrong with the world.”

“Yes, exactly,” Ivan jumped in. “Even our clients demand more and more but refuse to compromise. The moment we start collecting overdue payments, suddenly everyone says, ‘Oh, we don’t have any money, please understand our situation.’”

The boss looked at Ivan thoughtfully.

“I’ll announce my decision regarding your candidacy tomorrow.

I need a little more time.

You prepared very well today.

I’d like to review your reports again in a calm setting.”

Ivan left the office feeling confident.

The position was his.

He knew it.

He had already seen the draft order appointing him.

The day before, Alexandra had sent him a screenshot of it.

Sasha had connections in every department, and of course, their old romance still lingered in the background.

Completely relaxed now, Ivan headed back to his desk—or rather, to the single square meter of open-office space that was still technically his office.

“Vanya, how’d it go?” someone called.

“Better than great,” Ivan answered, happily replaying everything that had happened during the meeting.

—

The workday ended.

Ivan headed home.

The weather had warmed up.

He tossed his jacket onto the back seat and drove away.

Nobody was waiting for him at home.

He was used to being alone.

It was easier that way.

There was a certain charm to temporary relationships.

They were as convenient as disposable dishes.

On the way home, he stopped at a store and bought everything he needed to celebrate his small victory.

At the checkout, he realized he had left all his money in his jacket.

He asked the cashier to hold his purchases.

Running back to the car, he grabbed the jacket.

At the register, he stuck his hand into the pocket.

The first thing he touched was the button.

Looking at it, he smiled.

*Some kind of lucky button.*

“Are you paying or not?” a woman behind him in line demanded loudly.

“Why are you making such a fuss? Can’t you see I’m looking for my money?” Ivan snapped.

“Then look faster. You’re not the only person in line.”

“Lady, don’t you have anyone else to talk to?”

“Just wait a minute.”

“Don’t you get smart with me!”

The woman kept going.

Ivan paid, took his receipt, and finally said:

“Lady, would you calm down already?”

The woman continued shouting hysterically after him.

But Ivan no longer heard her.

He was already celebrating his promotion.

—

That evening, sitting in front of the television, Ivan kept turning the button over in his hands and thinking about the girl.

“Deadbeat mothers,” he muttered.

“They dump the kid on the father and leave.

Probably off conquering new horizons.”

The thought made him laugh.

Then suddenly he remembered something.

When his grandmother had taken him in and raised him, she often used that same phrase while talking on the phone.

*Deadbeat mothers. They have children and dump them on Grandma.*

Only years later had Ivan realized she was talking about his own mother.

His mother had left little Ivan with her mother and gone off to conquer the big city.

She never came back.

—

The next morning Ivan got ready for work as usual.

This time he wasn’t in a hurry.

Everything had already been decided.

Starting next week, he wouldn’t be just another office worker.

He’d be a boss.

Today he decided to drive through the courtyards again.

Maybe he’d see that little girl.

Yesterday at the store he had even bought smiley-face lollipops.

As he left the store, Sasha called.

“Hi, Vanya. I didn’t call you last night.

Listen, after you left yesterday, the boss called me into his office.

He told me he was considering me for the department manager position.

I couldn’t sleep all night.”

“Vanya… did they reject you or something?”

Ivan listened in silence.

He hadn’t expected this.

It felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him.

“Sasha, what are you talking about?

You? Department manager?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.

I thought they already had the order prepared for you.

Then suddenly he starts talking about me.

He told me I have strong performance indicators.

That I understand responsibility.

That I have management potential.”

“Potential?

Sasha, what nonsense are you feeding me?

I have a meeting with him this morning.

I’m getting promoted.”

“Did you call just to ruin my mood?”

“Or are you still upset because I dumped you?”

“What?!

Who dumped who, idiot?”

Sasha hung up.

Ivan stood there processing everything she had said.

*What if she’s right?*

*She’s sneaky enough.*

*What if there is no promotion order?*

*Bitch,* Ivan thought as he got into the car.

—

Approaching the intersection, he slowed at the traffic light.

He scanned the area, searching for the little messenger of kindness.

Finally, he parked and got out.

A few yards away, behind some bushes, he found an old playground—or what used to be one.

The little girl sat on a crooked swing, half sunk into the ground, swinging something.

Nearby sat a man.

At first Ivan thought he was asleep on the bench.

Then the man picked up a beer bottle from the ground, popped the cap off against the bench, grabbed the cap, and threw it at the girl.

“Hey! Let’s go home already! I’m freezing out here while you walk your mitten around!”

The girl obediently stopped the swing, picked up a mitten from the seat, and headed toward the apartment building.

The man got up and staggered after her.

Ivan watched silently, as though he were watching a movie.

He wanted to stop the man.

He wanted to shove that beer cap down his throat.

But he stood frozen, simply watching.

The man entered the building.

The girl ran in after him.

Only then did Ivan remember he was supposed to be going to work.

And that’s where he went.

—

The scene stayed with him all day.

He stopped thinking about Sasha’s call.

Stopped thinking about the promotion.

The girl.

The mitten on the swing.

The button.

“Vanya, the boss wants to see you!”

“Got it. On my way.”

“Ivan,” the boss began, “you know I consider you a highly effective employee.

Your department’s numbers are excellent.

Yesterday I reviewed your reports in greater detail.

I like your approach.

But I’ve decided not to rush this decision.

I want to observe your department’s work—and you—a little longer.

So today we won’t be finalizing your promotion.

Do you understand?”

Ivan had already been distracted all morning.

Now his mind drifted even farther away.

“Uh-huh,” he finally answered.

“We should take more time.”

“Just… don’t be angry,” he said into the empty air.

He stood up and placed the bag of candy he had intended for the girl on the desk.

“Mom said that when someone is angry, you should give them something kind.”

The boss blinked.

“Ivan, are you all right?”

“That’s a very strange thing to do for someone hoping to become a department manager.”

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” Ivan answered and walked out.

—

The day dragged on with suspicions and sideways glances.

That evening he returned to the courtyard.

By then it was dark.

Nobody was there.

As he sat on the same bench where the drunken man had been sitting, two women nearby began talking loudly.

“That idiot from apartment fourteen got drunk again today.

I took little Marusya to my place.

Natasha from apartment seventeen called the police.

They took him away.

Thank God the girl can finally get some rest.

They should’ve taken his parental rights years ago.”

“I heard the shouting this afternoon.

I knew it was our Petya again.

I feel sorry for his daughter.

She’s been through so much.

He keeps bringing all kinds of trashy people home.”

“And poor Lizaveta.

Such a good woman.

Always willing to help.

He wasn’t like this when she was alive.

But illness doesn’t ask how old you are before it takes you.”

Ivan listened.

The picture was completely different from the one he had imagined.

—

The story continued to haunt him.

Eventually, he tracked down Marusya’s aunt, Tatyana, through the neighbors.

Pretending to be part of a volunteer organization called “Do Good,” he brought a bag full of groceries and gifts for the little girl.

When he finally found Marusya at a playground with her aunt, the girl immediately recognized him.

“Oh! Hello, Mister!”

“Marusya, do you know him?” Tatyana asked.

“Yes, we met yesterday.”

“The day before yesterday,” Ivan corrected with a smile.

Tatyana narrowed her eyes.

“I knew you weren’t a volunteer.

What exactly do you want?”

“Nothing,” Ivan answered honestly.

“I just wanted to make sure Marusya was okay.”

“Everything all right now?

You delivered your package?”

“Thank you.

Marusya, let’s go home.”

“No!” Marusya protested.

“Don’t be angry.

Mom said that when people are angry, you should give them something kind.”

She reached into her coat pocket.

It was empty.

Without hesitation, Ivan reached into his own jacket pocket and handed her the same smiley-face button she had once given him.

The girl smiled.

She took the button and handed it to Tatyana.

Tatyana accepted it and quickly turned away so Marusya wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go home,” she said softly.

As they walked away, Marusya waved.

“Mister, I ran out of buttons!

That’s why I crossed the street to collect more.

But Daddy wouldn’t let me go there.”

“My name is Ivan,” he laughed.

“You can call me Vanya. Not Mister.”

The girl waved in agreement and walked away holding her aunt’s hand.

“Aunt,” Ivan repeated thoughtfully.

“She’s about as much an aunt as I’m an uncle.”

And for the first time in a long while, he laughed out loud.

—

At the end of the week, Ivan presented another report.

Everything unfolded much like before.

Questions.

Answers.

Clarifications.

Opinions.

Then suddenly the boss asked:

“Ivan, do you think there are events that can completely change a person or change their life?”

“Yes,” Ivan answered calmly.

“Absolutely.”

“And last time you said that when someone is angry, you should give them something kind. Something like that, right?”

“Yes.”

“Does that really change anything?”

Ivan smiled.

“In my case, it did.

How about yours?”

The boss paused.

“Well, at the very least, it didn’t leave me indifferent.

It made me think.

There’s a certain philosophy in it.”

He reached into a folder and pulled out a document.

“It’s a good philosophy.

And I hope, as department manager, you’ll be able to develop it further.”

The boss handed Ivan the promotion order.

“Sign it and start transferring your responsibilities.

Alexandra will be taking over your current duties.

I’ll let her know.”

Then he smiled.

“Oh, and thank you for the candy.

My son loved it.”

—

After work, Ivan sped off along the now-familiar route.

But this time he stopped at a small shop along the way.

He was bringing Marusya a gift.

He was bringing Marusya a little bag of kindness.