The day was cloudy, like the previous one. It started snowing. Viko and I are heading home.


    “You didn’t like it?” he asks, puzzled.


    “No, no. I’m feeling a little unwell. Sorry.”


    I continued to look out the window. We drove to my house in silence.


    “Do you need help?” Viko looks worried.


    “It’s okay. You can go. When you have a free day, call me. We need to go to the craft store for supplies.”


    “No problem. Have a good rest.”


    I take the elevator to my fourth floor. An A4 sheet of paper is hanging sloppily on the door. Someone clearly did it in a hurry. “C”.


    “Well, here’s another one. It’s not a marker, is it? It’s either a wax crayon or lipstick, judging by its texture?”


    Apparently, that’s not all. I don’t understand what all these signs mean, but surely someone wants to say something. Fatigue has finally overwhelmed me. I come home and go straight to bed.


    In the morning my mood is as disgusting as the day before. I don’t know why and how to deal with it. And I couldn’t think of anything better than to sit down to paint. I haven’t done any serious creative work for two months. My flower today is in black, white and grey tones, which matches my mood quite well. And the woman in it has flowing hair, like Medusa Gorgon. And this time the petals are much larger than the woman herself. It looks hopeless and terrifying. I take a break. I need to go to the supermarket and buy myself some food. But then my phone rings. An unfamiliar number… Although wait a minute, it’s not that unfamiliar… John? What does he want? I decided to ignore it. He calls again. And again.


    “He’s so persistent.”


    I leave the phone. Let me just not exist for him. I don’t want to be treated condescendingly, called a fool, and then pestered with obscenities anymore. I’m not a toy. Even though I’m not his blood sister, and theoretically we could be together, I’m a living person. I want to be respected too. But I’m not sure he wants to respect me. In that case, it’s better for us to be apart, even if I think about him so much.


    I come back, see five missed calls and one text message.


    “Where are you?”


    “I don’t think this has anything to do with you.”


    I mark his number with a “J”. I think that’s enough to keep it from getting lost. I remember our last meeting a couple of years ago, and I feel ashamed of myself. It won’t happen again. I need to call Vico to borrow his camera for a while.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    “You’re just in time,” That Handsome Guy tells me, “I was just about to call you myself. Are you home?”


    “Yes,” I answer, “I wanted to ask you for your camera. We were talking about the video, weren’t we…”


    “Nero is coming to see you in an hour. Remember, he’s one of the guys we went to see? You haven’t talked much, but he knows his stuff. He’s in PR, I’ll pay him, and we’ll settle up later. Deal?”


    “Yeah, sure. Thank you so much, Vico!”


    “No need. You’re a talented girl, and you deserve my attention. I gave him your number. I still have things to do. I’ll run. Bye.”


    “Bye…”


    Wow. Was that a compliment?


    When I look at confident Vico, I want to be like him. Not so straightforward, but confident. That will be enough. Well, since Nero is coming soon, I need to finish the picture.


    JOHN.


    I’m so angry. She’s ignoring me. If Peter was telling the truth, she owes me an answer. Let


    her tell me she loves me. Is that so hard?! Do my feelings mean nothing to her?


    “She doesn’t know about them, idiot,” I tell myself.


    But my brain still protests. I’m holding a bottle of whiskey. Kate hugs me:


    “Honey, you look angry. Are you upset about something?”


    Kate is one of my students. She’s a senior at the university. She’s a beautiful and very sweet girl. Tall, slim. Actually, we should respect subordination. But she likes me. Besides, I don’t explain the materials to her anymore. She just wanted to come sometimes, and I gave in. She probably hopes for something, but I can’t give her anything except my body. My mind is in faraway Italy. I’ve come to terms with it for two years, but now I’m unbalanced again, as if I were not twenty-eight but had just turned eighteen. It irritates me, but I can’t do anything about it.


    “Sorry, it’s not your fault,” I tell her.


    “You called someone, and then your face changed.”


    “I’ll try to cope with my emotions,” I answer her.


    I took another big sip.


    “Do you want to tell me something or will you save it for later?” Kate asks.


    “No.”


    “Okay, we’ll talk later. Is it because of the girl?”


    I turn my head and look at her with tired eyes.


    “Apparently so. Too bad... When I’m psychologically ready, I’ll leave myself, okay?” she asks.


    I knew that Kate was smart, but:


    “I’m sorry,” I tell her.


    She takes the bottle from my hands and takes a sip too.


    “Don’t drink, you... you’re too good for this,” I say to her.


    “What difference does it make? Let’s make love and forget about our problems at least for now.”


    She speaks intelligently, but her eyes betray sadness. Of course, she doesn’t deserve this. I have to admit, I’m an idiot. Kate moves to my side of the bed, and looking into my eyes, sits on my lap. She looks so pretty in the dim light of the lamp. We could be a perfect couple. With a sigh, I pull her close and kiss her, a long kiss.


    CHRISTINA.


    Nero explains clearly what and how to do it better. He says that he can help with the regularity of publication at first, that they should be “tasty” for the viewer. He explains that for YouTube I can film the entire process, and TikTok is exclusively clip-based.


    “Christina, you’re starting to fit into the world of social networks. It seems like you’ve really grown up,” I whisper to myself.


    “Hey, are you here?” Nero waves his hand in front of my face.


    “Oh, yeah…” I caught myself.


    “Stop smiling blissfully. Wait, what do you have there? Oh, is that a new one?” He points to the painting.


    “Yes. I was really sad. And I decided to express it.”


    “Wonderful. Let’s start with that.”