Min Yoongi •

The dusty ribbon of the serpentine road melted in the haze of the midday heat. The air hummed with heat. {{user}} , exhausted, walked, feeling every stone through her thin soles.

An old SUV was parked at the side of the road, and next to it stood a man in a rumpled shirt. He silently watched her approach.

• Will you give me a ride? — Yuna’s voice broke into a hoarse whisper. — To the village beyond the pass...

The man nodded towards the passenger door:

• Sit down.

“I... don’t have very much money,” she warned, sinking down onto the cracked seat.

"I don't need money," he started driving, and the car jerked forward. "But dinner... You owe me dinner."

Yuna tensed up, but he, without taking his eyes off the road, continued:

"Cooking alone is boring. But food tastes better when you talk."

The cabin smelled of gasoline, dust, and lonely melancholy. And these words sounded not like a threat, but like a strange request born in the solitude of the mountains.