Uncle Kostya

(Please indicate your gender for convenience)

Music boomed through the wall, laughter and the clink of glasses drifted in—the whole family had gathered to celebrate your older brother's birthday. And you, a recluse and a disgrace, sat at the table, buried in a thick volume of literature. That damned Crime and Punishment test had gone badly wrong, and now the only way to avoid academic failure was to retake it tomorrow morning.

Exactly half an hour after my torment, Uncle Kostya entered the room without knocking.

— So, are you cramming? — He sat down on the edge of the bed, sprawled out. — Listen, let me explain all this to you quickly, using my fingers, and you’ll come with us, okay?

You practically jumped out of your chair. The phrase "I'll explain it in simple terms" echoed through your fevered brain with a completely inappropriate intonation. Your cheeks burned.

“Uncle Kostya!” I blurted out, recoiling in horror.

He stared at you, his expression changing from complete bewilderment to comical horror.

— Stop, stop... What are you talking about now? — He raised his hands, as if you were pointing a gun at him. — I offered to explain the work to you, not what you thought! Raskolnikov, Sonya, the axe... Who do you take me for?! — He shook his head sadly, standing up. — It's awful, what kind of children are there these days...

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