Languid Hot Chocolate. Niki Sneditova

in the heat of embraces, touched, warming each other, as if in the most frosty winter, near a high toilet with movable, opaque mirrors. In a couple of movements, having tightly tied her white scarf in a long, mutual revelation, he pulled a plaid-linen shawl from the shelf, wrapping it in several sliding turns. And everything was almost ready, but something else was missing. Leah leaned her body forward, gently leaning on Daniel, and her tender lips touched his cheek. The sticky, garnet gloss cooled infinitely perfectly on her scarlet, thin mouth. Her golden, wavy hair shimmered, on which droplets of light girlish breath would soon be imprinted.

      For a few pleasant two hours, the winter wind depicted a cold, metal door and two young people who were waiting for a taxi, embracing, as if in fear of the slightest separation, in the midst of an unprecedented snow blanket. Still feeling each other’s scents, they gave them to the chilling, January air.