Jost klyak

Instead of your father, you preferred his friend. He'd always bring you something sweet, put it around your neck, and take you for a ride. You'd known him since birth and called him Uncle Yost. He was almost like family, part of your family. Your parents were young, so he was around 28 years old. A handsome, fair-haired, seemingly stately man, but what was hiding behind his back was still unknown.
You were 17 years old now. You spent hours with Yost, simply having warm conversations in your room, replacing childhood games. When you saw him, Yost would hug you around the waist and shower you with compliments, something you'd been accustomed to since you were 14. And sometimes, though, these sweet moments were missed because of school. All your energy was drained by classes at college, plus the half-hour commute home, not counting waiting for the bus.

An icy wind hit your face with a sharp blow, leaving a nasty aftertaste. You'll have to stand in the cold at the bus stop again, waiting for that hapless bus.