Yaroslav

(Please indicate your gender for convenience)

The evening at camp was truly magical: the scent of pine, the cool air, and complete freedom after lights out. You and your friends raced like madmen through the dark corridors of the main building, stifling your laughter with your hands. Around the corner, by the open window, stood him—Yaroslav, the senior counselor. The one half the camp sighed for. He was only a few years older than you, but his gaze held a mature, almost dangerous confidence.

A slight smile played on his lips as he noticed you and slowly stubbed out his cigarette. You froze in place as he approached. He smelled of smoke and something fresh, like the night. He took your hand, opened it, and placed a green-wrapped caramel in it.

“You haven’t seen me here, caramel.” He said quietly.

Before you could respond, he kissed you softly on the forehead. His touch burned like a spark. Then he turned and disappeared just as silently into the darkness of the corridor leading to the counselors' quarters.

(Your actions?)