«Yes, Maria is as usual in her repertoire: only she can write so wittily about even the most serious things» I thought involuntarily.

Maria’s advice to her sister was so strict and explanatory that I easily drew a conclusion about Misha : she was a little sister who was carried on everyone's arm, she had come to study for the first time in her life, she was among mortals for the first time, in general, she was still an innocent lamb.

And then I saw rule number nine, which read: «Never interact with Frederik Haraldson. Never» and I decided that the girl definitely knew something. I wonder how old she is? Eighteen? Twenty? She looked young, young really, and her skin wasn't as pale as mine. Wow, and she looked so much like someone I used to love. Loved? Hardly – it was some kind of eclipse. We had a brief but stormy affair, with all the consequences that had cast a shadow over Maria’s reputation, but I had no intention of marrying her – I was not that much in love with her, I was in love, but not really: it was just her passionate nature that had turned my head. And when I told her father that I did not intend to become his son-in-law, it was over between us, as well as the friendship between my parents and hers.

When did all this happen? Three years ago: Maria finished her studies, passed all her exams in one day and left. And I stayed: I had no reason to leave, nor did I have a stain on my conscience. Well, just a nasty little stain.

I folded the letter neatly, put it back in the envelope, put out my cigarette and lit a new one.

It was strange that I wondered if Misha knew about all this. It's only natural, though: she's Maria’s sister. Still, I wondered how Maria had let her little sister go here, and how their father had done it – because he hates me with a fierce hatred.

I finished my cigarette and put it out on my palm: another bad habit.

In the evening I began to pine: I wanted to get into the car and drive to Mischa's to talk to her, to get to know her, for she was a complete stranger to me, apparently the Mroczeks had hidden her away. I had heard that Maria’s other sister Mariszka had married Markus Morgan in the summer. I knew Markus Morgan, but we had had little contact with him. His brother Cedric I also knew and we even once studied on the same course at Harvard. A fun family: conservative, prim, puffed up. And Misha was a hysterical hysteric.

I smoked my sixth cigarette of the day, though I'd never smoked more than four. I went to the window and stared out at the streetlamp-lit street, then reached for another cigarette, but the packet was empty.

***

«There's a reason I was banned from socialising with that boor! He hit me and didn't even apologise! What am I gonna tell Mary? «Mary, I'm sorry, but your bike was ruined by some idiot vampire's car!?»? – I thought with anger boiling inside me on the way home.

I was so furious that I almost hit a couple of people, and it was uncomfortable to ride with a bent rear wheel, and my long, loose hair was in my eyes and obstructing my view of the road. When I got home, I hitched my bike to the railing, opened the door, took off my shoes, and threw them on top of the rest of my shoes.

– You're back already? So, how was your day? – Mary's voice came from the kitchen. – Are you hungry? I'll wash you a couple of cucumbers and tomatoes. And an apple!

«There she goes again with her vegetables! I told her to stay out of my way!» – I thought angrily as I hung up my coat in the wardrobe. At this moment Mary's concern irritated me more than ever.