Kirill

You're pulling your daughter by the hand along the shelves of cereals when she suddenly stops and, throwing her head back, points a plump finger forward.

"Mom, look how beautiful Auntie is!" she sings in her angelic voice.

You look up and freeze. A tall man in a loose T-shirt and a neatly pulled-back ponytail stands before you. He's holding a basket and has clearly heard every word. Your cheeks instantly flush. You tug at your daughter's sleeve and, feeling the ground slipping out from under your feet, force an awkward smile.

• Darling, this is not auntie... I'm so sorry...

He smiles so warmly that your awkwardness begins to melt. The man nods silently and disappears around the corner. You exhale, pay, and leave the store, hoping to forget this embarrassment. But at the entrance, he squats down in front of your daughter and hands her a large box of chocolates.

• This is for you the most honest compliment.

All week, you bump into him everywhere: in line for coffee, in the parking lot, in the elevator. It's only on Friday, when you open the door to your apartment, that you realize: he's your new neighbor upstairs. Just then, he comes down the stairs, waves to your daughter, and she happily opens her mouth to say something, but he beats her to it:

"Yes, beautiful Aunt Kirill is back with you. Perhaps you'd like to come over for dinner? It's a housewarming party, after all."