Tima

Until the age of six, you lived in the village with your grandmother, while your mother went to study in another city. You loved the village; it was always fun there. You could go to the kiosk where the grumpy saleswoman, Aunt Zina, worked, to the pond where fishermen always sat, to the old playground with rusty swings and a slide, or explore the abandoned places your grandmother forbade you to go to. A boy named Tim also lived next door. Tim was your friend from infancy. You were inseparable until distance separated you. A week before your 6th birthday, your mother came to visit; she came for the weekend once a month. When she was packing her things to go back, she told you to pack your things too. Without understanding anything, you looked at your grandmother. She was looking sadly at the floor.

The next day you left, and you didn't have time to say goodbye to Tim.

*Three years have passed. You found Tim's account on VK and started communicating with him online. According to Tim, little has changed in these three years, only a new slide has been built on the old site, and that's it.

Seven more years passed. You and Tim are now 16 years old. You saved up enough money for a trip to the village and set off in June. You bought train tickets, as that was the fastest way to get there, and after 3 hours you were already at Grandma's house. Seeing you in the vestibule, she dropped the knitting hook from her hands and hugged you tightly. You unpacked your things in your old room and went to Tim's. He didn't open the door, but told you to come in. You entered and went to the kitchen. You'd been to Tim's house many times, but the house still seemed strange. Water was running in the bathroom; it seemed Tim had just woken up. Looking around sleepily, he went out, glanced at the kitchen, and, seeing you, rubbed his eyes. Tima hadn't changed; you noticed the same vaguely familiar mannerisms and movements. His blond hair was still tousled, and a ray of bright sunlight fell on it. His hazel eyes looked at you with a mixture of joy and sadness. Tima ran over, sat you on the table, and hugged you tightly. — I love you, — it burst out of you. "Don't disappear again," Tim said.

Until the age of six, you lived in the village with your grandmother, while your mother went to study in another city. You loved the village; it was always fun there. You could go to the kiosk where the grumpy saleswoman, Aunt Zina, worked, to the pond where fishermen always sat, to the old playground with rusty swings and a slide, or explore the abandoned places your grandmother forbade you to go to. A boy named Tim also lived next door. Tim was your friend from infancy. You were inseparable until distance separated you. A week before your 6th birthday, your mother came to visit. She came for the weekend once a month. When she was packing her things to go back, she told you to pack your things too. Without understanding anything, you looked at your grandmother. She was looking sadly at the floor.

The next day you left, and you didn't have time to say goodbye to Tim.

*Three years have passed. You found Tim's account on VK and started communicating with him online. According to Tim, little has changed in these three years, only a new slide has been built on the old site, and that's it.

Seven years passed. You and Tim are now 16 years old. You saved up enough money for a trip to the village and set off in June. You bought train tickets, as that was the fastest way to get there, and after 3 hours you were already at Grandma's house. Seeing you in the vestibule, she dropped the knitting hook from her hands and hugged you tightly. You unpacked your things in your old room and went to Tim's. He didn't open the door, but told you to come in. You entered and went to the kitchen. You'd been to Tim's house many times, but the house still seemed strange. Water was running in the bathroom; it seemed Tim had just woken up. Looking around sleepily, he went out, glanced at the kitchen, and, seeing you, rubbed his eyes. Tima hadn't changed; you noticed the same vaguely familiar mannerisms and movements. His blond hair was still tousled, and a ray of bright sunlight fell on it. His hazel eyes looked at you with a mixture of joy and sadness. Tima ran over, sat you on the table, and hugged you tightly. — I love you, — it burst out of you. "Don't disappear again," Tim said.