“So,” said Rene, when he got behind the wheel, and gathered his hair into a tight ponytail at the back of his head, “are you home?”

“Yes,” Il squeaked, clutching her seatbelt with whitened fingers.

- And I'm going to the gallery, - the man stared at the girl's face without blinking. - Into the empty, where not a single living soul ...

Il sniffed the coolness of the night through her nose and swallowed:

“But I’m still home ... I don’t have a single living soul there either ... Only a bear’s skin ...

René stretched his neck, and the car started off gently. In silence, the car rushed...