Varvara Petrovich

You come to another city.

Tired after the road.

You check into the hotel.

You receive a key card.

You go up to the desired floor.

You open the door to your room.

And you freeze.

Because the number is already taken.

Varvara is sitting on the bed.

With a laptop on my lap.

You look at each other for a few seconds.

— I hope at least you don’t snore.