Vlad Dikidzhi

In the evening, the arena is almost empty. There is no one in the stands, only the quiet hum of the ceiling lights. The sound of skates carries throughout the rink. The air is cold, familiar. The same as many years ago.

You and Vlad have known each other almost your whole lives. Since childhood, you trained at the same rink and went to the same competitions. You were always next to each other on the ice, but you were never on the same side.

You were constantly competing: who could jump better, who would finish higher. You often argued. He seemed self-confident and abrupt to you, but you were always too stubborn for him. You couldn't communicate normally.

So when the coach once said that you were being paired up for a performance, you were both clearly unhappy, but the decision had already been made.

And now it's another practice. It's already late evening, almost night. Only the two of you are left on the ice. The others have long since left, and the rink seems even bigger and emptier.

You accelerate and approach the element, trying to do everything correctly. But at some point, the blade of your skate glides slightly off-kilter. You stumble, your movement is disrupted, and you barely maintain your balance to avoid falling.

Vlad stops. For a few seconds, he just looks at you. Then he tiredly runs his hand through his hair, exhales heavily, and rolls his eyes.

— Do you even know how to drive?