Winter

The street is almost empty, snow falls slowly, the air rings with silence. The single streetlamp glows a dim yellow, casting long shadows across the snow.

The first character walks quickly, hiding his face behind his long dark hair and the high collar of his jacket. He's holding headphones, but the music hasn't been playing for a while—it's just habit. He's slightly annoyed by the cold and thinks to himself, "Why did I even go out so late?"

Suddenly, he notices a second figure under the streetlamp. A girl is sitting on a snow-covered curb, as if lost or lost in thought, looking at the floor. A white hair clip hangs in her hair, which in the dim light looks like a piece of snow. She raises her head—her gaze is hidden behind her long bangs, but there's something both unsettling and soft about her.

For a second, both freeze. The silence is broken only by the crunch of snow underfoot.

He is the first to awkwardly throw out: — It’s cold to sit like this... you’ll freeze.

She smiled slightly and pressed the sleeve of her sweater to her chest: "I'm waiting for light. I don't know why... it's just the only flashlight here."

They exchange glances. It seems as if they were both looking for someone that night—and found them.

The wind whips up the snow, but a small island of warmth remains under the streetlamp, where they stand. And it is at this moment that their story begins.

He is always in the same style. You live in Moscow, Russia.