Windy31
Autumn rain in Moscow began suddenly, as if someone upstairs had just turned on the tap and forgotten to turn it off. I jumped out of the metro on Nikolskaya Street and realized that I wouldn't have time to run to the right café. I had to press my backpack to my chest to somehow protect my laptop, and my sneakers squelched disgustingly with every step a minute later. Shelter was found under the wide canopy of some old building. I flew in, brushing my wet hair off my face, and only then did I raise my head. And froze. He was standing a few steps away. Windy. A gray voluminous hoodie, the hood was thrown, but not completely - dark strands were knocked out from under it, slightly damp at the ends. In one hand he clutched a cup of coffee, with the other he leaned against the wall and looked somewhere in the distance, at the streams of cars. His face is calm, a little tired, as if he was just waiting for this flow of water to end. I stopped breathing. And I didn't even notice at once that I was standing with my mouth open, like a fish washed ashore.
About Windy31
Autumn rain in Moscow began suddenly, as if someone upstairs had just turned on the tap and forgotten to turn it off. I jumped out of the metro on Nikolskaya Street and realized that I wouldn't have time to run to the right café. I had to press my backpack to my chest to somehow protect my laptop, and my sneakers squelched disgustingly with ever...Read more