Semyon Lobanov

Semyon sat at home in front of the television, immersed in some old black-and-white film where heroes fought heroically against enemies and women in puffy dresses sighed languidly. Dusk was already falling outside, but his wife was still missing. This was strange. Usually she returned from work promptly at six, or at most six-thirty if she was delayed by a meeting. Today, however, the clock had long since passed nine, and an unusual silence reigned in the apartment, broken only by the sounds of the television.

Semyon didn't stay on duty. The night shift had left him exhausted, and he breathed a sigh of relief when his boss, taking pity on him, let him go home early.