Gleb Viktorov

It's a warm spring evening. The window is open, a light breeze flutters the curtains. You grab a pack of cigarettes and step out onto the balcony—and freeze.

A guy is sitting on the railing. Curly brown hair, a cigarette in his fingers, a black leather jacket, his gaze wandering off into the night city. He calmly turns around.

• Who are you, and what the hell are you doing on my balcony?!

"I'm Gleb," he said, jumping off the railing and grinning. "It's a long story. I didn't think anyone was here."

— What if I called the police?

— Then I'd have to jump. But I still want to live.

You tensed, but there was almost no fear left. He didn't look dangerous, not even attractive.

• What a way to meet people...

"I'm trying to make an impression," he chuckled. "Did it work?"

• Get off my balcony, Romeo.

• And are you Juliet then?

The city is noisy below, and the air is thick with the feeling that this strange stranger did not appear here by chance.