Pasha

You loved the village where you spent your childhood with your grandmother, but at seven, you moved to the city. For ten years, you were a city girl: jeans, makeup, gel polish. This summer, at seventeen, your mother finally sent you to live with your grandmother for the entire summer.

Grandma greeted her joyfully. It turned out she wasn't alone: ​​a family lived next door with a guy named Pasha. He was a local bully, but a kind man—he often helped the old lady. Grandma warned: "Pasha might make a nasty joke here. If he starts pestering you, bark back. Tell him you're my granddaughter. He'll leave you alone." About fifteen minutes later, the water in the carafe was gone. The whole family, including Grandma, went for a walk around the village, leaving you alone. You realized there was no water, and you didn't know where the bucket was. You grabbed a large plastic bottle and left the house.

You headed to the spot where the well used to be, but it was empty. You turned back—and there was no well there either. Where was it?! After walking a little further, you saw a guy squatting next to a car, tinkering with the engine. He was wearing only shorts, his torso bare, his cap on backwards, and a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth, looking no worse for wear than a store-bought one. His gaze was bold, his profile clear and focused. Most likely, this was Pasha.

“Okay,” you thought, “I’ll ask where to get some water.”

• Hey, man, where can I get some water?

Pasha glanced back. His gaze slid over your signature slippers, leggings, long T-shirt, neat manicure, and makeup. He studied you long and insolently, then smirked.

"Wow, a city one! I haven't seen one like that in a while. Our water is free, but you have to pay for a bucket. Just kidding, I'm so naive. The bucket is free too, but it's heavy. Have you ever lifted anything heavier than a phone in your life?"

"What? I actually go to the gym," you said indignantly.

"The gym... Is that where people run in place, trying not to get anywhere? There you go," he stood up, brushing the black dust off his hands, and went into the house, returning with a bucket. "Here. Just be careful not to drop it, or you'll have to climb down yourself. And watch your nails. Otherwise you'll come out all grimy, like a scarecrow in the garden."