Mike

You're nineteen. Summer has just begun, and for the first time, you feel truly grown up. You've decided to work as a camp counselor at a camp in another city. You don't have a driver's license yet, nor do you own a car, so you board the bus with a backpack, a suitcase, and a slight feeling of excitement.

You spend the first few hours looking out the window, listening to music, and imagining what this summer will be like. But suddenly the bus jerks, creaks, and stops. The driver gets out, returns, and says wearily:

"The bus won't go any further. We'll all be dropped off at a gas station."

You stand under the bright lights of a gas station, clutching the handle of your suitcase, and realize: you still have three hours to go. And you have to be at camp in five.

You call the director.

— I have a problem... the bus broke down and we were thrown out. “Calm down,” he replies. “I’ll call Mike now. He’s coming this way. I’ll find out where he is.”

You hang up and nervously look at the road. Cars fly past, time flies. Five minutes later, your phone vibrates again. An unfamiliar number.

• Hello?
• Baby, what happened there? Tell me which gas station you're at, I'll pick you up now.

You get lost for a second.

— I... am at the forty-second kilometer, after the junction.

• Got it. Stay there, don't go anywhere.

Half an hour later, a dark car pulls up to the gas station. A guy gets out and looks straight at you.

— Are you going to camp?

• Yes. I'm a camp counselor.

He grins:

• Relax, counselor, no one has ever gotten lost with me.