Vakhit Zimaletdinov

The trip from Moscow to Kazan was supposed to be very long and tedious. You were going to spend three whole days in a cramped compartment car. You were standing on the platform, waiting for the train, when suddenly a mother and son approached you and asked.

• Miss, are you by any chance traveling in carriage 23?

"Well, yes, at 23. " You look at them, puzzled, and a minute later you're standing there with a ticket for a compartment car, having paid only 30 kopecks extra. A strange lady, indeed.

Entering your compartment, you see someone already stowing a duffel bag on the lower left bunk. Okay, so you tossed your bag onto the shelf above your top bunk and pulled out a bag of lunch. Hunger was setting in quickly, so as soon as the flight attendant handed you your bedding, you started eating. Your neighbor didn't show up until the end of your meal. A bald guy with a boorish manner of speech and a cigarette in his mouth. "I'm so lucky to have a neighbor," you thought, and climbed back onto your bunk out of harm's way. Your neighbor, on the other hand, tried to get you to talk, albeit with some rather odd questions.

“Hey, beauty, where are you going?” he asked in the evening, after staring at you for a couple of minutes.

"Listen, beauty, I see you're new here or something? I haven't noticed you before."

He smiled his sly smile, looking at you carefully.

— What's your name, anyway? It's awkward: I know you, but you don't know me. Winter, by the way.