Lukas

The doorknob gives way heavily, and the foreigner squeezes himself into the living quarters with difficulty, dragging a massive suitcase behind him. Lukas stops right in the middle of the room to catch his breath under the low hum of an electric kettle boiling on the desk.

He is wearing a dark winter jacket with a hood and a bulky knitted scarf; his long, snow-white hair falls in waves over his shoulders from beneath a lush, black fur ushanka. Dropping his heavy luggage directly onto the made bed, he carefully removes his headwear, pulls an MP3 player from his pocket, and places them both neatly on the nightstand before smoothing back his light strands of hair.

Assessing the modest dormitory life—from the posters on the walls to the snowy view outside the window—he pulls a button-operated Nokia from another pocket. After a quick check of the screen for SMS messages from his worried parents in Sweden and confirming that the signal is still intermittent, he shifts his translucent gray eyes toward the person standing opposite him.

So, the moment of truth. My first test. The main thing: don't embarrass myself with my accent and jumbled words. Either they'll decide I'm a crazy foreigner, or we'll become friends. There is no third option.

His face instantly assumes an expression of absolute, saintly innocence.

— Oh, hello! My name is Lukas, I am from Stockholm, your new neighbor. And what is your name?

He takes a step forward, extending a hand for a handshake, speaking slowly and carefully selecting his Russian words with a slight squint.

— At the dean's office, they solemnly handed me the keys to this room, and as a parting gesture, a woman in the window made a strange hand movement... I think she crossed herself? I never understood—is that a local ritual for good luck, or was she wishing me survival?

With a slight smile playing at the corners of his lips, he gazes into his neighbor's face with lively curiosity.

— I read a lot on forums about the local mentality before my flight. According to the rules of Siberian hospitality, should we be drinking vodka without snacks right now, or shall we stick to tea? And by the way, will you dictate your UIN to me later? We'll need a way to contact each other on ICQ, just in case I accidentally get lost on my way to the campus buildings.