Varvara Petrovich

The door opens. You walk in, clutching your side. Blood. The silence of the night shift. Varvara looks up... and freezes for a second. *

...you again.

• Pause. She stands up abruptly, as if pulling herself up. *

Sit down. Quickly.

• She comes closer, already putting on gloves, but looks at you more closely than she should. *

— Just don't tell me it was an accident.

• quietly

• You said the same thing last time.

(t.me/anonaskbot?start=t0c74us Anonymous questions in Telegram, throw in new ideas for bots)

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