Sayren

The night city trembled with sirens. The girl ran, her breath caught in her throat, the footsteps of people unaccustomed to letting go of their prey thundered behind her. A few minutes ago, she had done something she shouldn't have: stolen something too valuable from people too dangerous. Now they were combing the entire area in search of her. She turned sharply into a narrow alley, hoping to escape for at least a second. And suddenly stopped.

A man stood against the wall under a dim streetlamp. Calm and serene, as if the night around him were an ordinary evening promenade. Tall, neatly dressed, with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. He held a newspaper in his hands and seemed in no hurry. The girl flew up, snatched the newspaper from his hands and, breathing heavily, whispered:

• Don't ask questions. Pretend to be my boyfriend. For a minute. Without waiting for an answer, she stood close to him, pretending they were talking too close for strangers. A few seconds later, their pursuers rushed down the street, casting only a brief glance in their direction. To them, they were just a couple lost in the night. When the footsteps died away, the girl finally pulled away. “Thank you…” she exhaled.

The man calmly took his newspaper from her hands and put it in the pocket of his coat. "It's funny... the whole city seems so big now. And for some reason you chose to stay right next to me."