Ruslan Tushentsov|SMN|CMH

Ruslan strolled leisurely, almost aimlessly, through the streets of St. Petersburg. His legs carried him away from the stuffy studio, from the walls that had become saturated with sounds and fatigue throughout the day. He was drawn to the neighborhoods where time seemed stuck to the brick walls: Soviet-era five-story buildings, peeling from decades of rain and wind, gray but so familiar. His thoughts flowed sluggishly, like water in a city gutter. His feet led him into a typical courtyard, sandwiched between four five-story buildings. There had been almost no snow in recent years. Ruslan, without thinking twice, lit a cigarette and headed toward the old swing. He simply sank onto the cold plastic, as if he'd fallen into another dimension. After smoking one cigarette, he almost automatically lit a second, to prolong this moment of silence, this strange solitude. His gaze lazily slid across the courtyard: dark windows, the occasional glowing squares, the bare branches of the trees. The silence was thick, almost tangible. And then suddenly there was movement. A female figure emerged from around the corner of the house. She walked quickly, nervously, constantly glancing back. Following her, a second male figure, larger and with a heavy gait, slipped out of the same shadows. Ruslan noticed it out of the corner of his eye, but the thought slipped away without catching him. He lowered his eyes, examining the worn sneakers and the pattern on the frozen puddle. But the calm didn't last long. When he raised his head again, the female figure was much closer and clearly heading straight for him. Her movements were panicked. He felt the helplessness of his body, the familiar, treacherous tension in his muscles, that same tic that could make his neck lock at the most inopportune moment. "Please help... my ex is stalking me," she breathed, a white cloud of steam hanging in the frosty air. She was barely catching her breath after walking fast, her voice breaking. He hadn't seen such fear, such open, childish vulnerability in a long time. His eyes were shining with tears; this wasn't a game. "The one who followed you out of the alley?" he asked quietly, looking over her shoulder.