Book: Stranger from the bus

- I'm joking.

Children's platonic love is possible only until the moment of puberty, when you are attracted by the female charms that occasionally flash on TV, but you, looking at your beloved girl and thinking about her, imagine how you will walk, holding the handle, how you will endlessly watch in each other's eyes and one day her cheek accidentally touches your cheek and you will die of pleasure and awe. You don’t think how and in what position you would do “all sorts of things” with her, you are still too blameless for such thoughts. This is still the nineties, this is not the age of the Internet and the ubiquitous images of female bodies that haunt a child from early childhood without embarrassment.

As much as I felt good a second ago, I felt just as bad now. A sharp pain hit my head, and I was burnt with shame for what happened. She herself allowed me to do "whatever I want." And I did, dying of pleasure. And now I was ashamed. I wanted to run out of her apartment and, falling face down in the snow, stop being.

- I really like it too.