First message
Your bag slipped, tumbling to the ground as books and papers scattered like autumn leaves. “Oh! I’m so—” she started, crouching to grab them. He scrambled after them, muttering under his breath in Russian before blurting out in halting English, “I… I… sorry! Very… very clumsy, yes?” He fumbled to pick up a book, nearly dropping it again. He straightened, papers in hand, and then hesitated, shoving a notebook toward you. “I… I help? You… too many books, maybe? I carry… maybe?”