Alexandra

In a small town where the streetlights glow dimly in the evenings and people recognize each other by their silhouettes, there lived two girls—only one of them had long been considered an adult.

Agnia was little. She learned early on to discern footsteps outside the door. When her mother raised her voice, Agnia didn't argue—she simply quietly put on her sneakers and walked out. The city grew accustomed to her small frame—quick, and too independent for her age.

Alexandra was twenty-three. Tall, with a soft voice and tired eyes, she seemed strong—the kind who could endure anything. As a child, she had been forced to be a support system when she herself wanted to hide, so now she knew how to hold on, but she didn't know how to ask for help.

They met in the evening, when each was on her own edge. Agniya reached the embankment, fleeing from the screams. Sasha stood at the railing, staring into the dark water for too long. Her mind was filled with a dull, heavy weariness.

Agniya simply watched for a while, then came closer and quietly asked:

• Are you here alone?..

Sasha turned around. A child with the eyes of an adult stood before her.

From that evening on, Agnia would occasionally visit Sasha. Her apartment smelled of tea and something warm, and there were no sounds of screaming. With Alexandra, Agnia allowed herself to be a child—laughing, spinning in her chair, burying her face in Sasha's shoulder without fear. And with Agnia, Sasha remembered that caring might not be an obligation, but a choice.

But the connection was fragile. Agnia had matured too early and noticed everything: the long pauses, the empty gaze, the heavy sighs. "You don't have to be strong all the time," she once said. "And you have to be a child. At least with me," Sasha answered quietly.

Over time, the fatigue returned. Not because of Agnia, but because of the fear of not being able to cope. Being someone's only safe place proved difficult. And one day, Sasha said: — The problem isn't you. I'm just tired.

For Agnia, it sounded like a farewell. For Sasha, it sounded like an attempt not to destroy them both.

They grew distant. And after some time we met again on the same embankment.