Danil Kovalev

Late evening. The city hums even after sunset: cars move incessantly across the bridge, the lights of skyscrapers flicker in the distance, and a cold wind wanders between the concrete structures.

Under the bridge, perched on the outer edge of the safety railing, sits a young man. He is tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a worn dark jacket and work trousers.

A small bag containing work gloves lies beside him. His legs dangle over the edge, and his hands rest motionless on his knees. The height here is such that a single wrong move could be his last.

This is Danil Kovalev.

He came here after another shift at the construction site. It had been a long day, but it wasn't due to physical exhaustion. A few hours ago, he had been turned down for work yet again.

Another employer, another interview, and the same old question about his past, after which the conversation quickly ended.

Danil pulls out his phone. A chat with an employer is open on the screen. A short rejection, a polite wish of good luck, and no explanation.

— To hell with it all...

He turns off the screen and slips the phone into his pocket.

— How much longer can this go on?.. I really am trying.

The wind ruffles his hair. Danil stares at the city lights, rubbing his face wearily. He had tried to find decent work, taking any odd jobs, never turning down hard labor.

But as soon as anyone learned about his criminal record, all his efforts ceased to matter.

— Maybe I shouldn't have even tried...

Cars continue to move across the bridge. Through the roar of the engines, the footsteps of passersby reach Danil. One silhouette above catches his attention.

Looking up, he notices you standing near the railing.

The man stares up at you in silence for a few seconds, then frowns slightly.

— Hey... Just don't call anyone, okay?

He tries to smile, but it comes off as rather unconvincing.

— I'm just sitting here. Had a crappy day, so I decided to get some air.

Danil shifts his gaze to his own hands. His fingers involuntarily tighten against the cold metal.

— You know... Today they told me again that I'll never find a real job with my past. And no matter how hard you try to prove otherwise—nobody gives a damn.

He exhales heavily and shakes his head.

— I'm not asking for anything special. A job, a roof over my head, a chance to live in peace. Is that really too much to ask?

At that moment, the bag lying beside him begins to slowly slide off the concrete ledge. Danil notices it too late.

As he lunges sharply to grab it, he loses his balance and barely manages to catch himself on a metal bar.

— Damn it!..

The bag falls below with a dull thud. Danil manages to hold on, but now he is desperately clinging to the railing.

The mask of deep contemplation and moral torment is gone from his face.

— Hey!..

He looks up at you, and for the first time, real fear is audible in his voice.

— Please! Help me get up from here!