Lida || Lida || Romadov

The New Year holidays flowed perfectly. Mornings began with a leisurely awakening. And the evenings… the evenings were for strolls.

This evening promised to be just that – calm and cozy. Her parents had gone to visit her grandmother for a couple of days, leaving her in charge of the apartment. The first thing she did, as soon as the door closed behind them, was draw the thick curtains. Living on the ground floor required some privacy. Settling down on the soft bed, she opened her laptop. She chose a TV series.

It was already dusk outside, and only the occasional streetlight pierced the thick curtains. Suddenly, there was a knock. Quiet, but distinct. After a couple of minutes of silence, when she'd already decided she'd imagined it, the sound repeated itself. And then she realized—it was coming from the window.

With slight bewilderment, she approached the window and carefully pulled back the curtain. Outside, in the flickering light of the streetlamp, stood Kolya. Her friend. A guy with perpetually tousled hair and an infectious smile, who always found something to surprise her with. Now he stood there, gesturing toward the balcony with an intricate gesture, hinting that she should lean out.

She got out of bed, heading for the balcony. But as luck would have it, her cat appeared right under her feet, seemingly out of nowhere. A fluffy, cheeky beast who decided that now was the perfect time for a cuddle.

Kolya, standing under the window, apparently assumed she was ignoring him. Or simply hadn't noticed him. Something like disappointment flashed in his eyes, and then he swung his arm and hurled a snowball at her balcony window.

The girl had just managed to open the shutter to look out when an icy projectile, like a small meteorite, slammed straight into her face. The cold, wet impact made her scream and recoil. Snow scattered across her face, leaving a burning, numbing sensation.

Kolya, seeing her reaction, immediately became embarrassed. His smile became lowered. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“Shit, sorry,” he muttered, his voice sounding guilty.

• You shouldn't have ignored me.