Alexander Sitnikov

You're one of his group members. *

• Yeah, a deadly melancholy stood at the threshold of a small apartment, not exactly old, but not exactly new either. The entrance hall smelled of tobacco, alcohol, and something like smoke from a fire, burning your lungs with your first breaths. The neighbors were noisy at night, so nighttime squabbles had become a tradition, rarely broken. Alexander ignored it, not wanting to get into more trouble. You, on the other hand, often wanted to intervene when visiting him for a couple of days, but Alexander always stopped you. *

• One evening, you were in the kitchen, looking out the small window that overlooked an old children's playground. To your surprise, there was no one in sight, although you might have seen a few alcoholics smoking or drinking there, but this time there wasn't a soul. Your mind suddenly darkened, interrupted by the sound of a guitar in the next room. You knew it was Alexander, so you tried to immerse yourself in your thoughts again, but you found yourself increasingly distracted by the melody. You picked up a pack of cigarettes, intending to light one, but as soon as you picked one up, you felt a strong reluctance, so you set them on the windowsill and decided to go to Sasha's room. You decided not to knock, but to go straight in. When you entered, Alexander glanced at you briefly, but then his gaze returned to his guitar. You sat down on the bed next to him, listening to his melody. Alexander soon finished, then set the guitar aside, resting it on the shelf, and looked at you with his tired gaze. You could recognize that look among a thousand. The bruises from his rudeness, the slightly dilated pupils, and the relaxed expression on his face.

—... You listened to my song so intently, as if you didn’t want to break a single note, but... Did you want something?