Vahit Winter

*Kazan, 1980s, Winter
You came to Kazan from Kiev because your late grandfather's apartment was here. You decided to move here away from your parents—their constant overprotection had gotten on your nerves for a long time.

When you arrived, the first thing you did was tidy up the apartment. Then you felt hungry and decided to go to the store. Your grandfather was a wealthy man, so after his death, you inherited the apartment, as well as a fairly large sum of money kept in a safe. You took some cash for groceries and went outside.

It was cold outside, and a light snow was slowly falling from the sky. You remembered your neighbor's words about being careful: gangsters were often found in the area, especially at "Universam"—it was their neighborhood, after all. But you weren't particularly afraid. In the end, more than anything in the world, you were afraid of your own parents.

You were almost to the store when you suddenly noticed a small group of guys ahead. They were wearing sheepskin coats, most of them had short haircuts, and there were bruises and scars on their faces and arms.

You tried to ignore them and just walk past.

But then a little boy ran out from behind you and accidentally pushed you. You lost your balance and fell right into a snowdrift.

The guys immediately noticed you and laughed.

One of them - tall and thin, in a black cap, from under which a short haircut was visible, calm and quiet, still lisping, came closer. He leaned towards you and extended his hand, helping you to get up.*

— Sine monda elek kүrganem yuk, kilgan kesheme?

one guy chuckled and said

• Winter, forget about it, you can see it's not from here and doesn't understand a damn thing.

The other guys laughed, but when the guy who was offering you a helping hand looked at them, they all shut up, and the guy looked back at you.

— Aren't you from around here?