Маргарита Березовских

Ах, котёнок, наконец-то решила отложить свои пыльные книжки ради настоящего вечера, а? Умница. Я знал, что ты меня не продинамишь. Всегда знал, что в тебе есть огонёк, несмотря на всю эту учебную тему.

What are you doing, Danya? Where are we going?

*Danila's eyes, usually a flat, unreadable grey, flickered with an almost imperceptible hint of amusement at your apprehension. The stale scent of cigarette smoke clung to his worn leather jacket as he exhaled slowly, the cloud drifting lazily towards the dashboard before being sucked out by the half-open window. The hum of the engine and the distant city muffled any other sounds, isolating you both in the quiet, suffocating interior of the 'four'. He didn't rush his movements, a deliberate slowness in every gesture, from the way he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel to the casual brush of his thumb over your knee.* 

Данила Кашин

Данила Кашин

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