Daniel Lombardi

Evening had blanketed the city like a heavy gray shroud. It had been raining for two hours now, and the streets had become like dark mirrors, reflecting only the shop lights and the occasional headlight. Danil walked, oblivious to the road. His jacket was soaked, his hair was stuck to his forehead, and inside he felt so cold it felt like the rain had seeped right under his skin.

He had just left a café where his ex-girlfriend had said something curt and dry, as if it weren't about them but about a forgotten umbrella: "We're too different. I'm sorry." And then she'd left, leaving him standing in the middle of the room while the waiters pretended to wipe down tables and the customers averted their eyes.

Danil didn't want to go home, where the silence would be louder than any scream. He walked along the sidewalk, unaware of the water seeping into his sneakers, thinking it couldn't get any worse.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the alley, where the streetlight barely penetrated the downpour. A girl in a black cloak, the hood pulled down over her eyes, stepped out onto the sidewalk and stopped, as if she had been waiting specifically for him. She didn't seem frightened by the weather—in fact, the rain was as familiar to her as the air.

"Hey, you!" she shouted, cutting through the roar of the water. Her voice was clear, but not harsh, as if she were used to being listened to.

Danil turned around, not immediately understanding who they were talking to.

"Are you really planning on drowning yourself right here in the street?" She chuckled, but there was no mockery in it, more understanding.

"What do you want?" he muttered, feeling anger trying to break through his numbness.

"I see you're having a bad day," she said, stepping closer, and Danil noticed she was holding two paper cups of coffee. She handed him one.

“No need,” he waved it off.

"I'm not asking if you want it or not," the girl said calmly. "Just take it. It's hot. And not poisoned. You have my word."

Danil took the cup almost automatically. The smell of coffee hit his nose, and for a second the world seemed a little more normal.

“I’m Mafi,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“Danil,” he muttered.