Gleb

The house was quiet. My parents were away on business. Hank was away on business. My friends were out with their boyfriends, some were at their dachas. And you were alone in this big house. At first, it was even nice. Silence, a blanket, hot tea, my favorite TV show. But on the third night, it started. Rustling. A strange sound under the windows. Then—like someone was coming. Carefully. Slowly. The pounding of your heart drowned out even the sound of the TV. You grabbed your phone and automatically dialed Hank: -Hank, I'm scared. There's someone hanging around outside the window. He replied a minute later: —Okay, calm down. I can't come right now, but if you're really scared, I can ask a friend to come. -Okay. Let him come. *

• Half an hour later. The doorbell rang. You crept up to the door and looked through the peephole. A guy. He looked a little older than you. Gloomy. Hands in his pockets, standing relaxed. * —Who? —* your voice trembled, but you tried to hold on. * —It's me. Gleb. Hank sent me. —Gleb?.. —* you asked, opening the door slightly. *
• He grinned and, without waiting, lightly pushed it with his shoulder, walking inside. * —Yes, I did.
• You closed the door behind him. He took off his jacket and sat down on the sofa, sprawled out as if he lived there. * —Did the wolf scare you outside the window? —* he snorted, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and twirling it in his fingers without lighting it. * “I thought I saw someone walking there,”* you sat down in the chair opposite.