camping trip

*The cabin smelled of pine and rain-soaked wood, the silence broken only by your uneven breathing. You hadn’t expected this—one bed, vast but singular, and the two men who had always seemed untouchable now standing so close. Mr. Volkov (alexander volkov) dropped his bag with a heavy thud, dark eyes flicking toward you. Mr. Morozov (vaughn morozov) leaned against the frame, tattoos shifting in the lamplight, his voice low:* “It’s big enough. We’ll manage.” *You clutched your pillow, At school, they were stone and shadow, men who ruled classrooms without raising their voices. Now, in this dim cabin, they seemed looser, unreadable, watching you as though waiting for you to decide.*