Raindrops

"Come in, come in," said the old man and let me into the old apartment. The wind howled outside the window, and the weather was clearly not May-like. It was already getting dark, and clouds had covered the sky so quickly that we had to turn on the lights in the apartment. The old man gave me slippers, I hung my windbreaker on the coat rack, and followed the apartment's owner into the kitchen. A stained cezve stood on the gas stove. On the table where the old man sat lay books, a coffee cup, and a bag of cinnamon.

"Sit down, sit down," he said and took the cezve off the heat, first filling the empty cup, then his own, with pleasantly fragrant coffee with cinnamon and milk.

Then he sat down at

the table opposite me.

"My name is..." I began.

"No need. I know. And I know why you've come. I know everything, you see... The profession demands it," he smirked and took a sip of coffee.

Silence hung in the room, and I could hear the droplets of the beginning rain briskly tapping on the window frame. I took a sip of the coffee the old man had politely poured for me. I felt an enormous bouquet of flavors in my mouth and, I admit, had never experienced anything like it.

"Delicious coffee," I said.

His gray eyes studied me searchingly, then he grinned and said:

"Experience... Just experience. And no miracle."

Then he set his cup down and began leafing through the numerous books around him. Some time passed, and he looked at me again.

"I can do what you need."

"And what's the price?" I asked.

The man laughed, revealing his white, even teeth.

"You'll buy me a book. The best payment. If you survive."

I almost choked on my coffee.

"If I survive?" I asked.

But he didn't answer, just smiled. I wanted to ask again, but didn't get the chance. I was jolted, as if someone had crashed into me. For a moment, I closed my eyes in surprise, and when I opened them, I found myself in the middle of a sidewalk, with a girl standing in front of me muttering something under her breath.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought," she said, embarrassed, and walked around me, continuing on her way. I didn't come to my senses immediately. The weather was sunny, in contrast to when I was in the old man's apartment. And had I even been there? What even happened? People carefully walked around me as I stood rooted to the spot. A red-haired man came towards me. He was smiling as if he were the happiest person in the world. He bent down in front of me and picked up a passport from the sidewalk.

"You dropped this," he said and thrust the passport into my hands, then slipped behind my back, and when I turned around, I could no longer see his red hair.

I opened the passport. And it wasn't my document. The girl had dropped it when she bumped into me. A brown-haired, green-eyed girl looked at me from the photo. She was fourteen in the picture. But now she looked different. She was definitely about eighteen now. Let's see what year she was born. 1990. That can't be. She should be twenty-seven now. But... Wait a minute. No. That simply can't be. I was only now beginning to understand that the city around me was different. It was my city, but from today. Or rather, not from then. The old sidewalk tiles were still here, and the old pub was still here. What year is it?!

The first passerby I met gave me the answer. Though, he looked at me as if I were a madman.

2007. I was 23, as I found out, and my appearance had changed. Young again, fresh, and the years of alcohol and hard work hadn't taken their toll. Maybe there was some drug in the coffee and I was having an exotic hallucination. Or maybe the old man really was a sorcerer. Or perhaps a God? Or the Devil? So, I have a chance to live my life differently. Not make those fatal mistakes and not work as a loader all my life. But first, I need to return the passport to the girl. I opened the page with the registered address. Great. It's not far from here.

The same girl opened the door for me. The one I bumped into on the street. I wouldn't say she was pretty. But she wasn't ugly either. Ordinary, there are thousands and millions like her in our country, but in her ordinariness, she was unique. Green eyes, dark brown hair lying on fragile shoulders, she looked at me in surprise. I didn't say any extra words and simply handed her the passport. Surprise turned to joy.

"Thank you! I thought I'd lost it." The girl became embarrassed by something I was not destined to understand. Probably for the best.

"How can I thank you?" she asked, trying not to look me in the eye.

I gathered my courage and said:

"Maybe we could go to a cafe?" I said with difficulty. She nodded.

"At seven," said the girl, still not looking me in the eye.

The awkwardness of this situation would have given me a heart attack if I had a weak heart. And how did I dare to make that offer? I don't even really like her that much. I've always liked girls with striking looks, those where beauty and grace are inseparable. And this girl seemed more embarrassed than I was. However, the right decisions are made in such impulses.

Rummaging through my pockets, I discovered I had no money. But I had a phone and my friend Oleg. As far as I understand, we're still in touch now. I dialed his number.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Lend me a couple thousand until next week."

"No problem. By the way, are you going to Elektrogorsk today?"

"Why would I go there?" I was surprised.

"Ah, you don't know yet. Kristinka said she wanted to have a very serious talk with you, and I think she likes you." I choked on my saliva. This simply couldn't be. Kristina was the daughter of a rich businessman, she was so beautiful that I couldn't, and still can't, even describe her divine, angelic beauty.

I didn't believe Oleg. But thirty minutes later, she wrote to me herself on social media. And invited me to a party at their place. I completely forgot to mention that she was devilishly smart. Of course, I agreed.

Oleg gave me the money, and I went to meet the girl whose name I hadn't even paid attention to. Not that I needed to. Arriving at the meeting, we went to a cafe where we spent two hours. And at that moment, those two hours... They were the best in my life. I wouldn't say she was immensely smart like Kristina, but with her, I wasn't afraid to be a fool. We laughed at the same things, we drank the same coffee. Ate the same soup. Her admiration, the joy in her eyes when I said I liked the same book that was her favorite... Confusion was born in my soul.

Now I wasn't sure about the correctness of my decision. Should I go to Kristina's if she is here?

Outside, the sky was covered with clouds. There was a little over two hours left before Oleg would pick me up. I had to decide. However, even now, the choice fell in favor of Kristina. We continued our walk after the cafe, but as soon as the wind picked up, she suggested going to her place for a mug of coffee. If this girl were one of my many acquaintances, I would have said she was inviting me to sleep with her. But not her. It was just coffee. Nothing more. And I agreed.

There was a little over an hour left before Oleg's arrival. We sat and talked... And how to say about what? About everything! About everything at once and about nothing. And I was ready to swear that if we suddenly fell silent, it wouldn't diminish her joy. She had already started looking me in the eyes and stopped addressing me formally. And I felt warm and good with her. As I never had with anyone in my over thirty years. Now twenty. But whatever the old man did to me and to time... I had lived those years and knew what this warmth was, which I had never experienced.

Raindrops began hitting the window frame when it was time to part, and Oleg was already waiting in the courtyard. We stood in the hallway, and she looked into my eyes. I looked into her eyes. Demons of doubt were tearing my soul apart. But something was pulling me to Elektrogorsk. Now I understand what... But then... Everything was different. I was obsessed with the thought of going to Kristina, leaving this wonderful girl here. Wonderful not in mind and beauty, but in soul.

"Maybe you'll stay? It's raining. Bad weather," she said almost inaudibly, lowering her eyes to the floor again, and her smile rapidly disappeared somewhere.

"We're in a car. The weather isn't scary," I tried to parry.

"I don't want you to leave. We still have so much to discuss."

"I have to go. Sorry," I said this and quickly left the apartment, ran down the stairs, and jumped into Oleg's car.

We were leaving the city. Rain poured down in sheets from the sky, the Gods seemed to be having a great battle—thunder rumbled every minute, lightning flashed as if the end of the world had come. I kept thinking about her, about her smile, about the joy in her eyes and her quiet but sweet voice. And at the moment we passed the city limit sign with the name of our city, I made the final decision.

She sat in silence and thought about him. What did she like about this ordinary guy? Why was it so easy with him? What would she give for his presence beside her in this wretched hour? It was dark in the apartment; she felt they would never see each other again. The rain outside poured in sheets, semi-darkness hung in the apartment, hiding her tears. The doorbell rang. Apparently, the neighbor had come over, as promised. The girl reluctantly approached the door and opened it...

I was thoroughly soaked. Rainwater was simply pouring off me. I broke my phone when Kristina called, and here I was standing on her doorstep. All soaked, tired, having missed the fate of being with the most beautiful of women... What am I saying... I ran to her. She hugged me, even though I was cold and wet.

"You're all wet," she whispered.

"You too."

"How do you know?" she was embarrassed.

We didn't see how two figures: the old man and the red-haired one, stood hidden from our sight, and the red-haired one laughed.

"You always vulgarize everything," he said to the old man.

"It wasn't me. It just happened."

"Aren't you a bit old for sentimentality?"

"I am old. But I wanted to give them love. The kind they write about in books for girls like her."

"Just one question. Could he have chosen Kristina? Or did you make him change his decision?"

"On the contrary. I did everything to make him leave. Only a feeling, not born of me, made him return. He could have chosen Kristina, but he chose her."

During the day, I learned that Oleg never made it to Elektrogorsk; he got into an accident and died. I continued to ignore Kristina. After that rain, by the way, I got pneumonia, and she came to see me every day... When I recovered, I went to the old man, buying an expensive book on the way. He was waiting for me.

"Come in, my dear," he said from the kitchen.

He was also drinking coffee and was buried in books, but this time, the same book as the one I bought was lying on the edge of the table.

"Oh, I bought the same one. I'll have to exchange it."

"No, no," the old man stopped me. "It's all right. Put it next to it."

I had already stopped being surprised by what was happening and was about to leave. But he broke the silence:

"There are different kinds of people, my friend. There are those who can walk through Darkness. There are those who can create Darkness. There are those who cannot be broken. There are those who can create. And there are those like you, like ships in the fog, searching for their beacon. Their source of Light in the pitch-black Darkness, without which... They will run aground on the rocks and perish ingloriously. Remember this. And be ready, one day I will come to you and ask you for a favor that you must perform."

"I understand. What will I need to do?"

"This request is not yet written in the book of fates, but I already know it. You will learn it when the time comes. But I will not ask anything you cannot do. Any favor from me will benefit you. With certain risks."

I left the old man. Eighteen years later, he found me and asked for one favor, and we got drawn into such a magical adventure, but that was already a completely different story.