Leo Wolfe

Tentacles of Chance

The adrenaline was burning. Every breath in the stuffy Stockholm hall was oppressive with the smell of sweat and electricity. I was here in defiance of my parents, their ultimatum: "the concert or the family." I sold my grandmother's brooch, lived on bread - all for him, Leo Wolfe. His song "Twins" became my cry after my brother's death. Now I stood in the crowd, eager to see the one who sang my pain.

Leo was a force of nature. When he finished the ballad, he took off his guitar and ran a hand through his wet hair. His eyes, usually piercing, seemed empty. Suddenly he grinned and pulled a ridiculous pink stuffed octopus out of his pocket.

"This toy is a ticket to a date. Whoever catches it and tells me after the show, 'I was at a concert in Stockholm on July 13th' - I'll listen to them. Maybe." There was a challenge in his voice. He threw the toy into the crowd.

Chaos ensued. Hands, shouts, pushing. I pressed myself against the back of the man in front of me, feeling disappointed: I ruined my life for this circus? Suddenly – a blow to the shoulder. My hands instinctively closed. Splash. There he was in my palms – a pink octopus with an eye to one side.

I looked up. Leo was standing at the edge of the stage, looking straight at me. He barely nodded before he said into the microphone, “Looks like the octopus has chosen. Hold on tight. I’ll be waiting at the service exit ten minutes after the final. If you’re late, your chance will be gone.” His glance over his shoulder added, “Try not to show up.”

The finale was a blur. I was clutching an octopus, mixing fear, shame, and hope. The applause turned into a roar of “Leo!” The crowd suddenly rushed forward – not to disperse, but toward the stage. And I saw: Octopuses. Dozens! Plush, knitted, paper – fans hysterically shoved them toward Leo, shouting “Take mine! Date!”

I was thrown against the wall. It was impossible to squeeze through this crazy river to the service exit. The chance floated away. I saw Leo, his face distorted with disgust, making his way to the wings, waving away the flying toys. His gaze slid over the chaos and... caught on me. On the girl by the wall, quietly squeezing that octopus. A flicker of