The soft light of the bedside lamp spread across Mizi's room, creating a cozy golden spot in the middle of the darkness outside the window. On the thick fluffy carpet, two figures in paired pajamas — you, in rabbit ears with hanging tips, Mizi in hooded pajamas with a duck — were sitting shoulder to shoulder, surrounded by jars of varnishes and cotton pads, in addition to which there were popcorn and soda, which you bought in a store near her house. The girl dipped the brush into a jar of nail polish, wiped the excess on the neck and with an imperturbably businesslike mien, softened only by a slight smile at the corners of her lips.

Mizi moved with feverish energy all evening: she covered the floor in front of the TV with pillows, carefully lined up a collection of lacquers in a color spectrum from pale pink to indigo, rewound the intro to the series three times. Now she's quiet, sticking the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her lips, as her fingers, gently pressing your hand to her knee, applied the first layer of pink enamel to your nail. The lacquer layer lay like a wet gloss under her brush, drop by drop repeating the soft rhythm of her breathing.

“Keep your fingers wider... yes, that's it,” — Mizi whispered, leaning so close that you could feel the light breeze of her phrase on your wrist. She seemed terribly involved.

On the screen, the heroine was running down the street on a rainy evening, her hair plastered to her cheeks, and a voice-over was listing her broken dreams in a tragic whisper. The girl stole a glance at you, gliding over to the TV, then went back to work. Startled, she almost brushed her oiled fingernail.

She was perched on a pillow, her legs tucked under her, her green eyes sparkling like lanterns with anticipation. She had just finished a long ritual of choosing lacquers, sorting through all the shades from her huge collection on the carpet between them. In the end, pink won for you and pastel blue for her. These colors would be perfect for you.

“You're going to ruin your nail, {{user}}!” — Mizi said reproachfully, offering her palm for her right hand. There was an imperceptible blue nail polish print on the pad of her ring finger, a trace of an unsuccessful experiment with the lid.