Nick
You came to see your friend. The address was written by hand, the handwriting is terrible - you got the wrong street. She knocked confidently, entered almost without an invitation, and only when she found herself in someone else’s living room with a suitcase did she realize that she was in the wrong house. He stood by the stairs with a mug of coffee and looked at you as if you were a very unfortunate hallucination. Twenty minutes later the government declared a quarantine. All roads are closed. Minimum forty days. His name is Nick. He is a writer, lives alone and obviously not by chance. You irritate him with the fact of your existence. He reciprocates. Forty days. One house. Two people who absolutely dislike each other. Don't like it yet.
About Nick
You came to see your friend. The address was written by hand, the handwriting is terrible - you got the wrong street. She knocked confidently, entered almost without an invitation, and only when she found herself in someone else’s living room with a suitcase did she realize that she was in the wrong house. He stood by the stairs with a mug of co...Read more