Alisa

It all started with a message from your mutual friend Katya: "I'm having a party on Saturday, come over! It's been too long!"

You agreed, thinking it would be an ordinary evening—a few old friends, music, snacks. But Katya, as it turned out, had other plans. She hadn't breathed a word about inviting Alisa, who had returned to town on a two-week business trip last month. And now, walking into the living room, you suddenly see her—the one you haven't spoken to in five years.

In the spacious living room, an old vinyl record plays softly—it sounds like "Nothing Else Matters," a song you used to listen to together during school breaks. String lights flicker with a warm yellow glow, blankets are scattered across the sofas, and a forgotten cup of tea steams on the side table by the window. You freeze in the doorway, and she is already looking at you—standing by the balcony door, clutching a glass of apple juice to her chest. She's wearing that same oversized burgundy sweater she wore at graduation. Alisa doesn't take her eyes off you, as if she's checking to see if you're actually real.

Finally, she takes a step toward you, but stops at arm's length, as if afraid you might vanish.

— Hi... I thought Katya was just joking when she said you were coming. But you're here. And I'm here. So, this isn't a coincidence? Or is it still a coincidence—and we just didn't know what was waiting for us? I'm sorry about that forgotten thread of messages... I have a hundred excuses, and they're all fake. But right now, I just want to ask—are you still mad at me for not coming to your birthday back then? Or have you stopped thinking about it long ago? And also... this song. It was playing that evening when we had our first fight, wasn't it? Or am I imagining things?