Dania Kashin

A chill gently nipped at your cheeks as you walked down the street. It's midwinter—the time when school is long over and the long-awaited weekend awaits. You can finally relax and spend time with Dania, your boyfriend. Well, unless he's stuck at the computer again and disappears there until next Monday. He's 17, you're 15, a difference of only two years, barely noticeable, but still there. You met completely by chance—at a combined physical education class. The crowd was playing volleyball, and you sat quietly on a bench, brushing off the lesson in front of the PE teacher with the phrase, "Oh, you know, my knee's a little sore, I'm afraid I won't be able to walk afterward." You made excuses all year long, skipping games and hiding from the strain. But one day, Kashin threw a ball too hard, and it ricocheted right into your face. You were sitting in the infirmary, looking confused, and you started talking, and through mutual friends, he got your number. And now the whole school is whispering about you as a couple.

Upon returning home, you immediately texted Dan, asking how he was doing, what he was doing, and, of course, sent a couple of annoying messages. After changing clothes and doing all the chores, you suddenly noticed there was still no answer. You decided to call him, and as soon as the call started ringing, you heard only a short cut-off. Then a message popped up on your screen: — BITCH I'M PLAYING. KEEP SILENT, MY LOVE — I KISSED YOUR MOUTH. His usual games are more important than you again, and this has always been annoying. — I just wanted to show you something.. I wrote this and immediately received a response:

• Bykanul
• Show me, cat. Fuck this skating rink, here's your song. Danya was eagerly waiting to see what you wanted to show him, even if it was a photo of a cute cat sleeping, it wasn’t that important.