Chapter 1

Light. A gentle snow swirls. A young man, slightly past twenty, leaning against the cold stone wall near the entrance, watches the play of snowflakes in the lamplight. Beautiful. Yet what he had seen earlier was far more beautiful than this dance of snowflakes. "What am I doing here?" the young man asked himself. "Watching snowflakes, trying to hold onto the image I beheld just a little longer? God, how beautiful she is, and I saw her for no more than two minutes. This is not an earthly beauty. O, my Liza, or not mine, I shall die..., die right now by this cold wall, from the realization that she is not mine, not my Liza, not mine..., Elizabeth." The young man answers to the name Konstantin; to his friends he is simply Kostya. A philosopher-nihilist of modest height, reasonably handsome, of unathleticbuild, yet an idealist at heart. That is all one could say of him who does not yet know him, but all in good time.

Kostya took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He had tried to quit smoking many times; often he succeeded, forgetting about cigarettes for a month or two, but then the pernicious habit would capture him with even greater force. In the window of one of the apartments, a beautifully decorated Christmas tree glowed, reminding him of what day it was. "Christmas. How unpleasant it is to languish with oppressive feelings on a holiday," Kostya observed, glancing at that same window. As soon as he had finished his cigarette, he went inside. His best friend had come to visit in honor of the holiday. "Well, at least someone never abandons you on holidays." His name was Henry, somewhat taller than our hero, a pure-blooded Slav with blue eyes; there was something Aryan about him, or perhaps it only seemed so—he often liked to speak of and extol that race.

"So then? Shall we watch the film?" Kostya heard Henry's voice the moment he crossed the threshold of the apartment.

"Yes, go ahead and start it, I'm coming," Kostya replied, and as if in a single step passing through to the kitchen, he stood by the window. Outside, in the nocturnal darkness, a blizzard was already developing considerably. He thought again of that dear image. "Watch a film..., I would watch only her. Why did she come? Ah yes, to leave a bag with her things at my place. She was probably going out for a walk and it was in her way. But where? With whom? Stop..., it's not all that important. The main thing is that, despite the fact that we haven't spoken for over a month, she came. How I missed her, no..., miss her. If she left her bag with me, it means she will come again. It means I shall see her once more. She has changed a little since the last time I saw her, but has become even more beautiful. By her perfume, I, like a wild wolf, could follow her trail. Yes, certainly..., I shall see her again..."

Konstantin, as has already been said, was a philosopher; his mind was occupied with philosophical problems. He grappled with ontological, epistemological, logical, and ethical questions. But most often the subject of his reflections was Elizabeth. Once they had been the best of friends. Often they would gather as a holy trinity: Konstantin, Elizabeth, and Henry. Later, Henry too acquired a female friend, Anastasia. There were no hints of intimacy among any of them. Some maintain that friendship between the sexes does not exist; they, however, tried to prove the contrary. Up to a certain point this could be done, but nature, or even social conventions, or both together, would not permit it to continue. Although, to be honest, despite the fact that there were no hints whatsoever, Konstantin had loved Elizabeth from first sight, from their first meeting—it could not have been otherwise.

"Well, the first part of that film was better," Henry stated when the viewing was finished.

"But with the help of the second part, they made the first more realistic. An interesting device; I don't recall such a thing in other horror films," Kostya pronounced his verdict.

"All the same, the film couldn't be worse," Henry concluded.

"Agreed," Kostya confirmed. Arguing with Henry was sometimes more trouble than it was worth. Once Henry got an idea into his head, no reasoning could dissuade him. But at this moment Kostya genuinely agreed with him.

"Alright, looks like it's time for me to go," Henry said, leaving the room.

"Lately we've somehow begun to communicate less. Before, we not only reasoned about Freud, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, but also transferred their theories onto the canvas of our reality. Now we somehow leave things unsaid between us. Perhaps I've become less open since Liza stopped speaking with me; probably I'm simply afraid to be candid. That pain inside, I feel it. I feel how it gnaws at me little by little; I fear it will explode, and I shall do something like what happened before." Kostya reflected, silently watching Henry dress in the hallway.

The friends said their goodbyes. Kostya closed the door, turned his back to it, and sighed. He once more saw the beautiful image before his eyes, and with the thought: "We shall see each other again, and that is what matters..." he filled his spiritual emptiness...