Hi, stranger

Hi Danny!! Thanks for your email. How are you? It’s strange to get emails from a man I don’t know. What do you look like? Can you send me a photo? I understand that getting an email from a stranger can seem unexpected and even a little alarming. Right now, I’m feeling exactly those same feelings. Please know that my intentions are completely sincere. I don’t know why, but your email ended up in my inbox. I’ve already added your email address to my contact list so your emails won’t end up in spam anymore. Please do the same so my emails don’t get lost among ads and commercial offers. Then we can continue our conversation without any problems, okay? My name is Alina. My full name is Alina Mikhailovna Mileeva. I live alone; I have a corgi, and I love him very much. Sometimes I feel lonely, and it’s as if he senses it and comes to me for comfort. His name is Bastik; I adopted him from a shelter when he was still a puppy. I’m 33 years old; I was born on September 10, 1993, and my zodiac sign is Virgo. They say that we Virgos pay close attention to detail, are a bit of perfectionists, and really value sincerity—and they’re right, because that’s exactly how it is. What about you? What do you think of astrology? These days, a lot of people are into it. What’s your zodiac sign? Maybe I should check our compatibility right away? Haha... I’m blonde. I’m 175 cm tall and weigh 62 kg. But, to be honest, looks have never been the most important thing to me. I value a person’s soul, their sincerity, and their ability to be themselves. By the way, I’ll warn you right away—I love to joke around, and I have a great sense of humor! So if anything happens, no hard feelings. I live in the city of Znamensk, in the Astrakhan Region. It’s a small but very cozy town located 1,000 km from the Russian capital. The sunsets here are incredibly beautiful—they’re simply mesmerizing! We have a wonderful culture and recreation park where I love to stroll along the paths, especially in the fall when the leaves rustle under my feet. There’s also a church in town that has become a spiritual center for me—a place where I can be alone with my thoughts. The air here is clean and fresh, and nature is surprisingly peaceful. What can you tell me about your hometown? I’m new to online dating. To be honest, I’m a little nervous about writing to a man I don’t know. I saw your message and decided to reply—I rarely communicate via email; in fact, I’ve probably never even communicated with anyone that way before. Maybe we’ll have something to talk about. Can we just use “you” right away? Best regards, Alina

Hi Danny! How are you today? Thanks for your message, and thanks for pointing out that important detail about your photos yourself. You’re a nice guy—you look confident and attractive. It’s strange that you don’t have a girlfriend. Thanks for telling me a little bit about yourself; I hope we can continue getting to know each other better. Today I want to be as open as possible and tell you a little more about myself. I’m a choreographer. And it’s not just a job—it’s my passion and my lifeblood. I work at a local dance academy, where I teach classes to children. I used to dance myself and compete in various competitions; I traveled to quite a few cities for performances. The stage gave me incredible emotions, but now I’ve found my calling in mentoring young dancers. Watching their eyes light up and seeing them achieve their first successes shows me that I’m on the right track and that I’m a good teacher. I spend a lot of time at work, but I don’t regret a thing. I love children very much and pour my whole heart into them, but, paradoxical as it may seem, I don’t have children of my own yet. I realize this might seem strange: a young, beautiful, and kind girl looking for a man online. But to be honest, I’ve had to endure a lot of emotional pain in my relationships, and I’m a little tired of being alone. When I was 17, I met a guy at dance school. It was love at first sight; we were together for a very long time… a full 11 years. I thought we’d be together forever. But, unfortunately, time passes, and people change. In recent years, he’s become a different person: rude, harsh, and sometimes even resorted to raising his hand against me. The most devastating blow came when I caught him cheating right in my own bed. That was three years ago. At that moment, my life fell apart. I’m a very sensitive person by nature, and this betrayal left an emotional scar—one that I feel will last a lifetime. But I don’t want to be alone in my old age; time passes very quickly in our lives, and I don’t want to be a lonely woman in this life. That relationship left deep scars in my soul and a profound distrust of men. For a long time, I couldn’t even bring myself to think about getting close to anyone—I was afraid of reliving that pain. That’s exactly why I decided to try online dating. It puts me at ease—I can get to know someone at my own pace, feeling safe. We’ll see how this turns out. But one thing I know for sure: I want to move forward, and I want to believe that sincerity and kindness still exist in this world. Despite everything I’ve been through, I remain a creative and cheerful person. I’m an optimist, and I try to find beauty in simple things. When I dance—now just for my own enjoyment—I forget all my troubles. Tell me about your life. What inspires you? What are your dreams? Tell me more about your work. I’d be very interested to hear about it. With warmth and hope for a sincere conversation, Alina.

Hi Danny! I was really happy to read your letter and learn a little more about you. Thank you for your sincerity and openness—I can trust you a little more now. You strike me as someone I can talk to honestly about any topic, and that makes me feel calm and confident. I sincerely hope that our conversations will grow even warmer with every letter. You know, I reread your letter several times. Especially the part where you wrote that you looked at your phone and thought, “What if this is real?”—and, to be honest, it really struck a chord with me. I, too, sometimes catch myself thinking that this correspondence isn’t just lines on a screen, but something alive and warm that I want to cherish. Thank you for making me feel that way. And also—what you told me about Houston, about working late into the night, about that girl from college… I understand all of that very well. When life pulls you into a whirlwind of responsibilities, it’s easy to lose touch with yourself and with those who were dear to you. But the fact that you realized this and weren’t afraid to say it out loud—that’s already a lot. I’m here, listening. You asked how I manage to stay positive. I guess it’s because every day I remind myself: life isn’t just about the past. I have my students, their laughter and their first successes; I have my mom, who’s always waiting for me when I get home from work; I have my sister, who sends me photos of her little ones. And there’s dance—when I dance alone in an empty hall to music I choose myself, I feel at home. It’s my sanctuary. And maybe that’s exactly why I don’t give up. Today I’d like to tell you about my family. It’s a very important part of my life, and I think that by knowing my roots, you’ll be able to understand me better. My family is small but very close-knit. I have a mom and a younger sister. My mom’s name is Marina; she’s 52 years old. She’s a physician by profession, and for as long as I can remember, she’s worked at the local hospital. She started working there when she was 20 and has dedicated more than three decades to medicine. Technically, she’s already retired, but in Russia, to start receiving pension payments, you have to wait another five years after retiring—it’s a strange system, but my mom doesn’t let it get her down and keeps working because she can’t imagine her life without helping people. Of course, she always dreamed that I would follow in her footsteps—she saw me in a white coat, helping people. But I had other ideas; I wanted to do what brought me joy. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been deeply drawn to dance. My mom told me that as soon as I heard any music anywhere, I’d always start swaying and moving to the beat of the song. It was more than just a hobby—it was a need of the soul, so to speak. I chose my path and became a choreographer, and now, looking back, I don’t regret it one bit. Dancing is my life, my breath, and a way to express myself. My mom, though she was worried at first, is now proud of me and always comes to my performances and my students’ recitals. I have a sister who’s 31. She’s a year younger than me, and we’re very close, even though we have completely different personalities. She’s already started her own family—she has a wonderful husband and two lovely children; she recently gave birth to her second child. She’s the one who gave my mom the joy of being a grandmother, and I’m incredibly happy for all of them. She has a hobby: photography. It’s her passion—she’s a very talented photographer—and she takes many of my photos. I also have a grandmother; fortunately, she’s in good health—she’s 74 years old. As for my father… I grew up without him. He passed away when he was only 24, and I hardly remember him. My mom doesn’t like to talk about him because he drank heavily in his youth, and that caused her a lot of pain and disappointment. He died from the consequences of his drinking, and my mom wasn’t happy with him. It’s a sad chapter in our family history, and that’s probably why I’m so cautious in relationships. The thought of rushing into something and making a mistake still scares me to this day. Perhaps that’s why I decided to try online dating. For me, it’s a way to get to know someone without rushing, to understand their thoughts and feelings before taking a step toward them. I feel comfortable communicating this way—I’m not rushing anywhere; everything has its time. Time is the most honest judge, and I’m ready to wait to meet that special someone. I’m a very open person, and it’s important to me that you understand: sincerity, honesty, and respect have always been—and always will be—my top priorities. I’m not chasing wealth or status; what matters much more to me is warmth of heart, the ability to listen and truly hear, support in difficult times, and shared interests. Tell me about your family. What was your relationship with your parents like? Do you have any brothers or sisters? I’d be very interested to hear about your childhood. I’m eagerly awaiting your reply and hope that you, too, feel that sincere connection in our correspondence—the one that binds us together—and I hope my long stories aren’t tiring you out. With warm regards, Alina

Hi, my friend, Danny! Thank you for your letter—I’m always happy to hear from you—and thank you for taking the time to read my letters. It was important to me to share my story with you—about dancing, about my family, and about what has shaped me as a person. I believe that honesty is the foundation on which something real can be built, which is why I prefer reality to illusions. If I don’t resonate with you as a woman, it’s better to find that out early on. I wouldn’t want you to mistakenly assume that a person’s outward appearance is more important to me than their inner world and character. Your letter really touched me, Danny. I reread it several times—especially the part where you’re sitting in the parking lot by the courthouse, looking up at the sky and asking yourself what it all means. You know, I understand that feeling very well. Sometimes after rehearsal, I stay in the hall alone, turn off the overhead lights, and just sit in silence. And I, too, wonder: what will remain when the music fades? What will remain within me when the applause dies down? I suppose it’s moments like these that make us who we truly are. And the fact that you’ve started reading poetry and writing short notes—that’s also a kind of dance, just without music. You’re creating a connection through words, through sincerity. This resonates deeply with me. I want to get to know you better, to understand how much we can be for each other the people we’re looking for, and what the future might hold for our relationship. I dream of meeting a kind, honest, and faithful man, by whose side I can feel desired, protected, and truly happy. Someone who appreciates not only outer beauty but also the depth of the soul—someone who’s ready to share his experiences with me, support my aspirations, and become a reliable partner in life. After everything I’ve been through in past relationships, it’s especially important for me to feel safe with a man—both physically and emotionally. Do you understand? I know that after hearing my story about my ex, you might have some questions or doubts. I want you to understand: I’m not looking for a “rescuer” or a “therapist” in you. I’ve already been through that hell and emerged from it as a strong, independent woman who knows how to take care of herself. I’m not running away from the past; I just want to move forward—but with someone who will respect me and my boundaries. My scars have taught me to value genuine care, not just pretty words. That’s why I’m not here to play games or just chat—I’m here to try to build what didn’t work out before. And you know, Danny, I’m not expecting perfect answers from you. It’s much more important to me that you’re honest—just as I try to be honest with you. You asked about the dance studio—I’ll definitely tell you more next time, about the kids, about the music, and about how real magic sometimes happens during rehearsals when the kids suddenly start moving not by the routine, but from the heart. But today I just want to say: thank you for being here. Thank you for not being afraid to talk about what matters. That’s worth a lot. I wonder, how do you see your ideal woman? What traits and qualities are most important to you? Maybe you’ll find them in me? What does “being a man” mean to you in a relationship? And what do you think makes a woman happy when she’s with you? I’m not perfect, and I’ve never tried to pretend to be. But I can offer sincerity, understanding, patience, and that “safe haven” that many men dream of. It’s not outward appearances or material possessions that matter, but emotional closeness and true mutual understanding. I’m looking for a relationship built on trust, openness, and mutual support. I want my partner to always feel that there’s someone by his side who will be there through every situation in life—both in times of joy and in difficult moments. Someone who will inspire him, not belittle him. I hope my thoughts were expressed clearly and from the heart, and that they didn’t scare you off. I look forward to getting to know you better as we talk. Thank you for taking the time to read this. It means a lot to me. Sincerely, Alina. P.S. I recently went to a photo shoot with my sister—take a look at how they turned out; I almost don’t even look like myself. I’d love to hear your opinion...

Hi, my dear Danny! I’m happy to hear from you again. You know, I’m starting to notice that our letters are getting longer and more meaningful. We share our deepest thoughts with each other, discover new sides of one another, and it’s turning into something more than just a correspondence. I really like that. I’m starting to like you as a person—your way of thinking, your sincerity, and the way you know how to listen and really hear me. When I see the sincerity in your letters, it warms my heart. It gives me hope that I’m not mistaken about you, and that we’re both moving in the same direction. I believe that sincere and open dialogue is the foundation for building a real and strong relationship. And you know, I’m still struck by what you said about sitting in that Houston parking lot and watching the clouds. That image came to life so vividly in my mind—the silence, your phone in your hands, thoughts about work, and then suddenly that feeling: “What if this isn’t just a job, but something more?” I think it’s in moments like these that we truly become ourselves. Thank you for sharing that. And thank you for asking about my dance, about the song, about how to start something real. I’ll definitely reply—but a little later, because right now I want to tell you something of my own. You know, I want to share one of my most vivid memories with you. Last summer, I was lucky enough to visit Sochi. It wasn’t just a vacation—it was a business trip; I was invited to be on the jury for the Dolce Vita dance event. It was an incredible honor and so exciting! It was my first time seeing the sea and the mountains, and feeling that southern air—it really is easy to breathe there. Mountains covered in greenery, the endless warm sea, the most beautiful promenades, and, of course, the warm weather. As far as I know, it never snows there, even in winter—even if it does snow at night, it’s all melted by lunchtime. By the way, drivers there don’t even switch to winter tires. Even though I had very little free time because of the event, I managed to go for a swim in the sea, take a walk along the promenade, and even take a day trip to the mountains. The view from the summit was breathtaking! And do you know what I tried there for the first time? Oysters! It was such a bold experiment for me. To be honest, my impressions were… well, let’s just say it’s an acquired taste! The flavor turned out to be very distinctive, and I didn’t immediately realize you were even supposed to eat them. But I always tell myself: you only live once, and you have to try new things. Even if I didn’t like it—it’s an experience, and it stays with me. But, to be honest, after this trip, I realized even more how little of the world I’ve actually seen. I’ve never been abroad, even though I’ve always dreamed of it. As a child, I’d watch movies and imagine myself strolling through the streets of old European cities, breathing in the ocean air, trying local cuisine... You only live once, and life goes by so quickly. I really want to see our beautiful world with my own eyes, experience different cultures, and soak up the atmosphere of other countries. I dream of visiting Switzerland! Maybe someday we can share this adventure together? What do you think? What about you? Tell me, what’s your most memorable and joyful life experience? Do you have a dream you want to make come true in the near future? Do you love to travel? Which countries have you already visited, and what stands out most in your memory? Share it with me. And one more thing—thank you for those three questions. I can’t get them out of my head. Especially the one about the song. I’ll definitely tell you what song I dance to when I’m alone. But first, I want to hear from you. You dance too—even if it’s in silence, with your phone in your hands and clouds above your head. I can feel it. I’ll be waiting for your letter. Have a lovely evening. With warmth and tenderness, Alina.

Hi, Danny! This might be a little off-topic, but today turned out to be an unusual day, and I want to share it with you. During practice, I noticed that my student Katya (she’s 8 years old) looked downcast. When I went over to her, I saw a bruise on her arm. I took her aside and gently asked what had happened. She told me that her mom had hit her. Katya’s dad is currently in military service; her mom is on her own, drinks frequently, and when she drinks, she takes it out on her daughter. Katya is afraid to go home, her grades have dropped, and she’s become distracted in class. I reassured her, telling her that she’s talented and that I’m always there for her. After practice, I decided to stop by their house to talk to her mom. When I arrived, her mom was drunk and in the company of two men. The house was a mess... I asked them to leave; they started raising their voices, but I threatened to call the police—I had already started dialing the police number—but they said they’d leave on their own. To be honest, I was really scared at that moment, because drunk people, especially angry men, can be very unpredictable. I spoke with Katya’s mom. I explained that her condition was affecting her daughter—that Katya had stopped taking lessons and was afraid of her, even though the girl is talented. Her mom started crying; she said she was exhausted and didn’t know how to cope, that it was emotionally difficult for her, and that she was worried about her husband. I offered to help, gave her my number, and told her I was always ready to support her. We agreed that I’d take Katya to my place for the night and bring her back tomorrow. We went to my place; I made us something to eat—pasta Bolognese—we ate, then went for a walk with my dog, Basti, and watched cartoons in the evening. Katya relaxed a little, smiled, and I could tell how much she needed that. She fell asleep peacefully, and my heart felt warmer. Tomorrow I’ll take her back. I don’t know what will happen next, but I hope her mom comes to her senses. I let her know that I’m ready to help if she wants to change. That’s how my day went. A little sad, but I’m glad I was able to support Katya. Sorry for straying so far from our topic of getting to know each other, but I needed to share this with someone... Now, Danny, I want to get back to your letter. It really touched me. The way you write about twilight by the canal in Houston, about the water, about how the world is a mirror… it was as if, for a moment, I was right there with you. And your story about the oil well, about the case you lost in 2010—that’s also about how scary it is to take a risk again. I know that feeling. When, after a fall, you think, “That’s it, never again.” And then, little by little, step by step—you learn to trust life again. The fajitas that turned out to be rich and flavorful—that’s a good metaphor. Sometimes you expect dryness, but you get warmth instead. And you know, what you said about quiet moments—sitting on the porch and listening to music—really resonates with me. There’s not much quiet in my life right now, but it’s exactly those kinds of things that help me hang in there. Thanks for sharing. And thanks for not judging me for switching to Katya. I really needed to tell someone about it. As for meeting up—I’m all for it. I hardly know Houston, but I like the idea of just walking around and seeing the city through your eyes. And as for the dance studio—come by sometime and check it out. I have all kinds of students, and yes, anything can happen: some forget a move and stand there looking lost, while others suddenly do something that makes the whole room laugh. At moments like that, I usually say, “It’s okay, let’s keep going.” Kids can sense that—when they aren’t scolded for a mistake, they really come into their own. So if you decide to stop by—just a heads-up, it’ll be noisy and warm. Best regards, Alina.

Hi, my dear Danny! How are you? What’s the weather like in your city today? We had a heavy downpour this morning—the weather was so bad that I didn’t even dare to walk as usual, so I called a taxi. First, I dropped Katya off at home; she’d spent the night at my place. It’s clear that her mom has started cleaning—the apartment is much tidier now. I hope this lasts longer than just one day and that she’s really gotten her act together. Then I headed to work. I was a little late, but it’s no big deal. The kids warmed up without me. I want to tell you a little about my daily routine so you can get a better idea of how my day goes. My work schedule isn’t exactly standard because I work as a choreographer at a dance academy, and my classes depend on the children’s ages. It’s summer now, so the schedule has changed a bit. My day starts with the morning group—my youngest students—from 9:00 to 11:00. They’re so cute! With them, we practice the simplest moves and play games; I try to instill a love of dance in them through play. Then I have a break until 1:00 p.m. During this time, I usually manage to grab a snack, have some tea, and prepare for my next classes. From 1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m., I teach the intermediate group. These are older children who are already more serious; they participate in competitions and prepare routines for performances. Here, we focus on technique, expressiveness, and complex combinations. And from 3:30 p.m. to 5:30 p.m., I work with my senior group—girls and boys up to 18 years old. We work with them almost like professionals: we learn complex choreographed routines, prepare for recitals, and refine every movement to perfection. This is the most demanding part of my day, but also my favorite. After work, I head home. In the evenings, I love taking my dog Bastic for a walk—he’s a little fluffy ball who’s always waiting for me when I get home from work. We walk in the park; I unwind after my day, listening to music or podcasts. Sometimes I spend time with my friend Lena or my sister. I love to cook, and in the evenings I often treat myself to something delicious—but in moderation. I especially love baking chicken with vegetables, making pasta with sauce, or cooking pork ribs. It’s simple, quick, and always delicious! I also watch my figure, so I try to cook healthy meals. I go to the gym two or three times a week to stay in shape. In my free time, I love to read. Right now, I have a couple of interesting novels and a book on psychology in my to-read pile. I also love watching movies in the evenings—especially something lighthearted and feel-good to take my mind off my worries. Sometimes I put on some good old-fashioned comedies to lift my spirits. What’s a typical day like for you? Tell me about your routines and what you like to do in your free time. What kind of movies do you like? What do you prefer to cook or order for dinner? I’m always interested in learning something new about you. You’ve become an important part of my life, and I want to know as much as possible about you. You know, when I reread your letter—the one where you wrote about Houston, the canal, the silence, and the soft hum of the city—I suddenly pictured you there so clearly. Sitting there, drinking coffee, looking at the water, and lost in your own thoughts. It seems to me that in moments like these, a person becomes especially real. And I’m glad you’re sharing this with me. Thank you for your kind words about Katya. To be honest, I don’t think I did anything special—I just couldn’t walk by without helping. But the fact that you noticed it and called it a “quiet strength”… that means a lot to me. Sometimes we don’t even notice in ourselves what others see. And another thing—I like that you ask about my work, about my students, and about how I handle challenges. It really matters to me. If you’d like, I’d be happy to tell you more—about how we prepare our performances, and about how I find the right approach for each child. I have my own little secrets that help create an atmosphere of trust in the studio. For example, I always remember that behind every movement lies a personality, and sometimes you just need to listen to a child rather than teach them. What about you? How do you handle difficult moments? What helps you not give up when things don’t go according to plan? I’m really curious. With warmth and affection, Alina. P.S. In the photos: me, the younger group, the middle group, and a photo with Lena and my sister.

Hi, my dear Danny! I hope you’re doing well and had a great day. I’m always happy to hear from you, so I can’t wait to tell you all about my day. It wasn’t an easy one, and I really want to tell you about it. This morning, as usual, I arrived at the academy. But during practice, I noticed that Katya wasn’t there. That made me worried, because she always comes, even when she’s tired. I called her mom, but no one answered. I started to feel uneasy. I decided that after work, I’d definitely stop by their house to check if everything was okay. After class, I went to Katya’s house. No one answered the door, but I could hear someone crying inside. I started knocking louder, and Katya opened the door, tearful and frightened. She said her mom was lying in her room and wouldn’t get up, was saying strange things, and didn’t recognize her. I went inside and saw that Katya’s mom was sitting on the bed, staring at a single spot and muttering something. She wasn’t herself. I realized it looked like withdrawal—a sudden cessation of alcohol consumption could have caused such a reaction. I called an ambulance right away. The paramedics arrived quickly, examined her, gave her a sedative injection, and said she needed to be hospitalized. They explained that abruptly stopping alcohol consumption without medical supervision could be dangerous, and she would require inpatient treatment. They took her to the hospital and said she would be there for about a week. Katya was scared, crying, and didn’t want to be left alone. I hugged her, told her everything would be okay, and took her home with me. On the way, I called her mom’s sister and told her everything that had happened. She said she’d come tomorrow and take Katya to stay with her while her mom was in the hospital. That calmed me down a little. At home, I made us a simple dinner; we ate, then went for a walk with Bastik. Katya calmed down a bit—she even smiled when Bastik was twirling around her feet. We watched cartoons, and she fell asleep in my arms. I looked at her and thought about how fragile this world is, how much pain there is all around, and how important it is to be there when someone needs you. This day reminded me once again that I’ve chosen the right profession. Dancing isn’t just about moving to music. It’s an opportunity to touch children’s souls, to be a source of support, protection, and inspiration for them. Sometimes I’m not just a choreographer, but someone much more to them. That’s inspiring. You know, I find myself thinking more and more often about how important it is to have someone by my side with whom I can share not only the joys, but also the difficult moments in life. It brings us closer together and makes us who we truly are. And I’m so glad that I have you. I’m really looking forward to your reply. Tell me how your day went. It’s important to me to feel that I can be a part of your life. Also, Danny, I want to thank you for your letter. It touched me deeply. The way you described that moment in the parking lot, when the sky turned golden and you sat there with your phone in your hand, looking at the clouds—it was as if I saw it with my own eyes. And your words about patience, about how it’s not just about winning or losing, but about simply being here and now—they really resonated with me. I, too, often feel that a true connection arises not in haste, but in silence—in the ability to pause and truly notice another person. Thank you for that. And as for the question about music—I’ll definitely answer it, just a little later, okay? Right now, I just want to be with you in this conversation. And also, my dear, I want to be honest with you. Unfortunately, right now we can only communicate through letters. WhatsApp and Telegram work very poorly in Russia—this started after the war; you can even read about it online. I don’t want you to think that I’m avoiding something or don’t want a closer connection. That’s not the case. It’s just that circumstances are what they are right now, and I really hope that later on we’ll definitely figure something out—find another way to be closer. For now—letters. And, you know, there’s a certain beauty to them. We’re in no rush. We simply have each other. And that’s already a lot. With warmth and tenderness, Alina.

Hi, my dear Danny! How was your night? I hope you woke up feeling rested and full of energy. My morning started early—Katya’s aunt arrived, just as she promised, and took Katya to her place. I saw them off, waved goodbye to Katya, and felt relieved that the girl would be safe while her mom was getting treatment. I was about to relax a bit, take a shower, and start my day. But that wasn’t the end of it! I went into the bathroom, turned on the water, lathered up, and suddenly heard a strange sound. And then I saw water gushing out from under the faucet! It was practically a fountain! I stood there covered in soap, not knowing what to do. The water was quickly spreading across the floor, and a couple of minutes later, the doorbell rang—my neighbor was screaming that her ceiling was leaking! At first I panicked, but then I caught on and turned off the water supply to the apartment. Thank goodness I knew where the shut-off valve was. The water stopped flowing, but the entire floor was already flooded. I quickly grabbed every rag and towel I could find to soak up the water. It wasn’t very pretty, but it helped—the puddle stopped spreading. I called the plumber, but they told me he wouldn’t be able to come until tomorrow. What a nightmare! I was covered in soap, with no water, a wet floor, and an angry neighbor downstairs. Luckily, she turned out to be understanding—when I knocked on her door and, blushing, explained the situation, she let me in to take a shower at her place. Oh my gosh, I’ve never been so grateful for a shower! I had to cancel my first classes to clean up the house. I wiped everything down, aired out the rooms, and didn’t head to work until lunchtime. So the day didn’t go as planned, but that’s life—these things happen! In the evening after work, I stopped by my place, picked up Bastik, and went to see my friend Lena. She’d been riding her bike yesterday after the rain, slipped, and broke her leg. The poor thing is lying there, in pain. I went over to support her, chat, and cheer her up. And while I was there, I asked if I could take a shower at her place. She laughed, of course, and let me in. We drank some tea, talked about girl stuff, and I told her about you... I walked home, tired, in the rain. My mood was… well, mixed. On the one hand, I’d managed—I’d handled all the surprises; on the other, I realized that sometimes I just wish there was a man nearby who would simply hug me, tell me everything would be okay, or at least fix that darn faucet! You know, it suddenly occurred to me: it’s true—it’s great when there’s someone who can share all these everyday struggles with you. Someone who’ll change a light bulb, fix a faucet, or just come over and say, “I’m here, I’m by your side.” And that makes things easier, even when everything’s falling apart. Do you run into surprises like that often? I’m curious—how do you handle the little everyday things? Or is it easier for you? Tell me about it! By the way, I keep thinking about your letter—about how you walked to court in the rain, how the parking lot was flooded, and you had to walk. You know, I could just picture you: soaked to the bone, but still moving forward because you had to. And that line of yours about “even the most level-headed people can find themselves caught up in sudden storms”—it really struck a chord with me. I found myself in just such a storm today. Except you had court and testimony, and I had a faucet gushing water and a neighbor with a leaky ceiling. But the point is the same: you stand there, look at all this chaos, and think—so what now? I also thought about your Max. You wrote that he used to run around the office during meetings about oil wells and would sit by the door when you were nervous. I think dogs really do sense more than we realize. Today, when I came home completely drained, Bastik just laid his head on my lap and looked at me with those eyes of his. And I felt better. Maybe they really are those “silent forces” you were talking about. I’d really love to hear more about your Houston. What’s life like there? Do you go to court often? And what was that case about, if you don’t mind me asking? For some reason, I get the feeling you’re the kind of person who finds something alive even in the driest of jobs. Tell me about it if you’d like. I also wanted to ask: do you ever take breaks during work just to catch your breath? And what movie do you watch when you need to feel some emotion—something simple, maybe even a little corny? Today, after all my adventures, I made some tea, wrapped myself in a blanket, and rewatched *The Notebook*. I know it’s corny, but I needed to cry. Sometimes that’s more honest than holding it in. Right now I’m sitting at home, all cleaned up—the water still hasn’t come back on, but the repairman is coming tomorrow. And I’ll be waiting for your reply, because you’ve become the person I trust and want to share every day with. I miss you so much and am waiting to hear from you. With warmth and tenderness, Alina.