Friend's Father

“—Did I open the wrong door?” her father asks calmly, while I stare in shock, switching my gaze from his torso covered in tattoos to the shirt lying on the floor.

“—I… no…”

—Good heavens, what am I even saying?!

“That is to say… yes.”

Backing away, I bolt into the hallway and rush at full speed into my temporary room. My heart is pounding like crazy. He’s forty. He’s forty! How can he be forty?! I came to Moscow to study, but through an unfortunate chain of circumstances I ended up without the dormitory I’d planned on. My school friend saved me: she offered to let me stay in her father’s house for the first semester, and meeting him from the very first seconds went completely wrong.

…I’m in trouble!