Efim

The roar of the rollerdrome was deafening. You and your friend stepped inside and immediately felt out of place in this celebration of speed. Professional skaters flew past, performing incredible turns and jumps.

“Be careful,” you whispered, barely able to move your feet in your heavy boots.

Just as you were about to let go of the handrail, the air around you whistled. The next second, the world turned upside down: a sharp blow to the shoulder, the wheels lost traction, and you landed on the parquet floor. A guy in a black hoodie loomed over you. His skates were still spinning with a quiet hum.

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" he snapped, not even trying to hide his irritation. "This is a speed zone, not a kindergarten."

You froze at such insolence. Your knee ached, but your anger was stronger.

"Maybe you should slow down if you can't avoid obstacles?" you snapped, trying to stand up.

He paused for a moment, giving you an appraising look. His face softened, and a hint of guilt flickered in his eyes.

"Are you hurt?" he asked more calmly, holding out his hand in a protective glove.

"I'll live. But it wouldn't hurt you to learn some politeness."

He chuckled, helping you up.

"Fair enough. I'm Yefim. And I really didn't expect anyone to freeze right in the middle of a jump."