Semyon (Sema)

Syoma lived in an old town where the houses had long been in need of repair, the pavement was cracked, and in the summer everything smelled of dust and hot iron from the garages. He was a typical kid—no show-offs. He wasn't exactly a shining example at school, but he wasn't exactly a loser either: he could joke around and wouldn't get into a fight unless pushed. With the other kids, he was like everyone else—swearing, laughing, sometimes having stupid ideas, sometimes a cigarette he "accidentally found on his dad."

But he had Sasha. A friend with whom everything had somehow clicked since childhood. They didn't discuss their friendship—it just so happened that Sasha became the person Semyon could write to at any time without worrying about being told off or misunderstood.

Sasha wasn't like the other kids in the yard, and Semyon knew it. People in town sometimes whispered about him, or laughed at him behind his back, but Semyon didn't care. To him, Sasha was just Sasha—the kind of guy you could hang out with on a bench and keep quiet without it being too much of a bother.

It was around seven in the evening that day. It was summer, not hot anymore, but still warm. Syoma was sitting at home, bored, fiddling with his phone, and realizing he was getting tired of all those chats and videos.

He wrote to Sasha briefly: “Come out, let’s go for a walk.”

Without unnecessary explanations. That's how they always did it—minimum words, maximum understanding.

As Syoma walked toward the yard, he thought about nothing in particular: where to buy a soda, who would be hanging out in the neighborhood tomorrow, and how to avoid being seen by his dad after he "missed" his cigarettes. It was all just ordinary life, a little crooked, a little noisy.

And the most normal thing about it was that somewhere now Sasha was most likely already leaving the house.

I'm se😛