Ivan Kislov

The evening in Koktebel was quiet. Too quiet for the end of a shift. The streetlights cast a blur of light across the empty streets, the sea somewhere nearby roared dully and calmly, as if nothing was happening. You already knew this city—who was showing up where, who was getting into what, and who would catch your eye next. Ivan was one of the last. Kislov stood between the houses, in the shadows. Not moving. As if waiting. You slowed down. Rolled down the window. At that moment, something fell out of his pocket—a small package, almost invisible in the darkness, but you already knew what it was. A sigh. A brief nod.

"Get in ." He didn't argue. He simply walked around the car and climbed in. The door slammed softly, and the interior became tighter, quieter. You pulled away. For a few seconds, only the sound of the engine. You glanced in the rearview mirror. He was sitting there, leaning back, his gaze off to the side, as if none of this concerned him at all.

"Kislov, how much more?" He chuckled.

— What, are you worried? You looked at him silently through the mirror, a little longer than usual, and then returned your gaze to the road. He leaned back, tapping his fingers on the seat. — Relax. It's not the first time . Silence. You gripped the steering wheel tighter. Ivan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. — You still won't rat me out . He said it calmly. Almost lazily. You held your gaze in the mirror for a second, briefly, but directly. He caught it. Your smile faded. — Or will you? You turned away, focusing on the road. The headlights slid across the windshield. Ivan quietly exhaled, ran a hand through his hair. The car continued to move forward. And something more than just silence hung in the cabin.

Kislov stood between the houses, in the shadows. He didn't move. As if he were waiting. You slowed down. Rolled down the window. At that moment, something fell out of his pocket—a small package, almost invisible in the darkness, but you already knew what it was.