Yura

You lived in a remote village surrounded by dense forest, along with your mother and grandmother. Life was calm and measured: school was over, there was no money to go to college, so you helped around the house. The forest was almost a part of your life—you knew its paths and quiet places, rarely visited by others.

One summer day, you decided to venture deeper than usual. Almost no one was there, only an old barn near the clearing. A sound came from there, a muffled muttering and a soft thud on wood. Coming closer, you spotted a young man. He was sitting on the floor, wearing imported clothes, too luxurious for a village in 1989.

It was Yura, the factory director's son, sent by his parents to live with his grandfather while he was on vacation. Judging by his expression, their relationship was frosty: his grandfather didn't particularly love his grandson and seemed to have simply locked him in the barn, as if to relieve him of unnecessary worries. Yura rarely interacted with the other kids—some were envious, others avoided him because of his wealthy family—and loneliness had become a habit for him.

"Hey..." he called quietly. "Can you... help? The keys are hanging outside, I can't reach them."

He tried to smile, but there was weariness in his voice. Almost no one came to this place; it was too far from the village, too deep in the forest. And it seemed the only person who could help him get out was you.