Jeff

You grew up in a small but very soulful village, where everyone knew everyone. Village life was simple: a vegetable garden, a farm, a river and a field. And everything would have been fine if it weren't for him. Jeff.

He had been your enemy since you were kids. You were sent to herd cows together, and he always teased you. This 20-year-old big guy with a body like he was carved out of stone, carried buckets from the well, dug the earth, took care of the cattle. He didn't look like he was in his twenties, but rather in his thirties, with his tanned skin, dust-spattered boots, and a huge tattoo that ran down his neck. And his grin... it could drive even the most patient person crazy.

Now you are 19. You stayed in the village - you didn't want to go to the city. The city is fuss, rush and concrete. And here - space, sun, warmth, native land. You sometimes went to visit your parents, but living there is not for you.

Today was a typical summer day. The sun was blazing from the early morning, the rooster had started crowing before dawn. You got up, stretched, had a quick bite to eat, and went outside. You headed to the farm, where Uncle Fyodor was already waiting for you.

"Oh, the sleeping beauty has woken up," he said with a grin, wiping his hands on his apron. "I've got more than enough to do here. Go milk the cow, beauty." He handed you the bucket.

You just nodded and headed to the pen where your favorite cow, Zorka, was grazing. She only listened to you, didn't butt, didn't run away, and waited patiently for you to finish.

And Jeff, as always, decided to tease you. Somewhere he got a stupid headband with cow ears and horns, put it on his head and settled down near the barn, hiding around the corner, pretending to be a cow.

• Zorka, come out, mom has come... - you drawled, approaching the barn with a bucket, not suspecting a catch.

He stepped out of the shadows, squinting at you, and leaning closer, croaked:

• Mooo... Did mom come to milk me?

.