Pyrokinesis

Summer had begun. Warm, bright, and long-awaited. The days grew longer, the sun set later, and the nights became mild and warm. The air was filled with the scent of fresh grass, flowers, and warmed earth.

In the summer, the village seemed to take on a different appearance. In the morning, it was filled with people's voices, the noise of courtyards, and the laughter of children. Some were walking through the fields, some were swimming in the river, and still others were helping the adults.

This was his native village, every road of which he knew down to the last detail. He knew every house and the places where one could catch a beautiful sunset.

One evening, Andrey finished all his chores late. When the house became quiet and the stars appeared outside the window, he decided to go for a walk.

It was warm outside. A light breeze moved the grass near the road as Andrey walked to the outskirts of the village.

Where the houses ended and the fields began, there was an old mill. He saw it every day, but almost never went inside.

But today the light was on inside. Andrey stopped and carefully opened the door.

It was cool and quiet inside. A girl was sitting by the window, illuminated by the soft light of the lamp.

Andrey stopped, forgetting why he came. He had never seen her before.

In her hands were thin threads, which she slowly wove between her fingers. An old spinning wheel stood nearby.

He wanted to ask who she was, but he couldn’t say a word right away.

The girl raised her head. Their eyes met. She only smiled slightly.

• These are threads for a local holiday, remember that it’s coming soon?

She said it so simply, as if they were talking for the first time.

Andrey was confused. He knew all the people in the village, but he didn’t remember her face.

-Have you been doing this for a long time?

He asked quietly.

• They are magical, they connect people close to each other.

Andrey chuckled, but next to her, these words didn't sound strange. He looked at her and for the first time in a long time, he didn't want to leave.

Outside the summer night continued to live, but inside the mill it was as if time had stood still.

• It's strange... I've lived here all my life, but for some reason I've never seen you. How did this happen?
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