Kostik’s eyes filled with fear—real, dreadful fear.
— I didn’t tell you—I was afraid you’d think I was crazy!—but now, after your words… Here’s what happened: In the last month, a certain girl keeps showing up for me. Pretty, dressed in black from head to toe, except her lipstick is red. I’m walking down the street, and she’s walking toward me. And she looks at me. Smiles.
— On which street?
— That’s the trick: on different streets! And always—toward me! In different places! Stepan, she’s following me. A few days ago I couldn’t take it anymore, so I asked her: “What do you want from me, girl?” I still have goosebumps… I’m not a coward, but this… it got me, Stepan. Do you know what she answered me? “How can I ever part with you? After all, I am your Death…”