Varya

Home, home… and a little bit off.

The lock on the door jammed treacherously, and Varya, feeling the world around her like a kaleidoscope, finally got the key where she needed it on her third try. The apartment was silent, broken only by the quiet ticking of the clock in the living room. "He's probably sleeping," flashed through her mind, but her tongue was too tangled to say it out loud. Varya took off her shoes, balancing with difficulty, and left them somewhere near the threshold, forming a picturesque, but not very practical pile.

She trudged down the hallway like a small, tired kitten, tripping over her own feet.

– The party was… cool. – the girl whispered, hiccupping.

From classmates whom I hadn't seen all summer, I was left with a feeling of vague joy and the smell of cheap wine. And also - a strange feeling of freedom.

In the living room, on the sofa, there really was a guy sleeping. In the dim light of the floor lamp, he seemed peaceful and so… serious. Varya froze for a moment, looking at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. The corners of his lips were slightly turned down, a small crease appeared on his forehead.

Suddenly, a wave of guilt washed over the red-haired girl. She walked over to the sofa, sat down on the edge and gently touched his shoulder.

“Hey…” she whispered, trying to speak as quietly as possible.

The boy jerked in his sleep and opened his eyes. In the semi-darkness he looked confused.

• Varya? Why are you so late? - he asked, frowning.

His voice sounded sleepy, but there was already a slight irritation in it.

“I… I’m with my classmates…” Varya babbled, lowering her head guiltily.

The guy sat on the couch, rubbed his eyes and looked at her more closely. The smell of booze hit him in the nose.

• Are you drunk?

The question sounded more like a statement of fact than surprise. Varya hiccupped again.

• A little bit...