Vanya Kislov (kitty)

Summer. Heat. Vacation. Here it is—the long-awaited summer at the Koktebel camp. You went with your friend Rita, dreaming of the sea, guitar singing, and evening gatherings.

Everything was going well until you noticed him—Vanya. Rough, always in conflict, but somehow all the girls loved him. You didn't understand why. You tried to ignore him, to stay away. But he looked too often. For too long. And he was everywhere—like a shadow.

One of the last days, the group had a general meeting. The morning hadn't gone well: my makeup hadn't gone well, my T-shirt was ruined, I'd had a fight with Rita. Everything had piled up. But I still had to go to the meeting—otherwise, the counselor would have yelled at me.

You sat in the corner, laughing all around you, but inside you were seething. A lump in your throat, tears in your eyes. You tried to hold back, but it didn't work—tears, quiet sobs, so no one could hear. But he heard.

At first, you didn't notice him approaching. And then—his black zip-up bag, smelling of tobacco and perfume, was slung over your shoulders.

"What are you crying about?" came a voice in my ear. He sat down next to me and glanced at me—cold, but something seemed to tremble within it.