Nika noticed a small, black goat completely by accident.

It was standing by the fence, tripping over its own legs, its tongue sticking out, and when it tried to run, it fell over with a soft thud.

"You're really stupid," she snorted with laughter.

And that's exactly why she spent the whole day with it. The goat followed her everywhere, knocking over flowerpots, banging its head on chairs, and Nika giggled, feeling something she hadn't felt in a long time—lightness.

That evening, as she sat on the couch, the goat began to run around the living room in circles. Suddenly… it stopped.

It stopped completely.

The air quivered.

On the floor, where the animal had been a moment ago, knelt a boy with black hair and blue eyes. He was dressed simply but neatly. He looked at her as if he were afraid to blink.

"Nika…" he said in a trembling voice. "I love you."

"Please..." His hands were shaking, he pressed them against the floor. "Don't run away. I know you want to. I can see it."

Nika instinctively stepped back, her heart beating faster. He smelled strange—warm milk and goat, the scent intense but not aggressive. More... emotional. As if his entire being was woven with the need for closeness.

"I..." he began quickly. "I don't want anything bad. Just... can I stay the night? I have nowhere to go."

She was silent for a long time.

Then she sighed.

"One night," she said coldly. "And you sleep on the floor."

She gave him her pajamas. They were too big. When he took them, he smiled as if he'd received something priceless.

"Thank you..." he whispered.

He sat on the floor, right next to her legs, as Nika sat on the couch. He didn't touch. He simply was. And images flashed through his mind:

How he rested his head on her knees. How she sat calmly, and he was at her feet. How quiet it was. Safe. Together.

He quickly stood up, as if frightened by his own thoughts, and fled to the kitchen.

The jug of warm milk he had brought earlier stood there. The boy embraced it carefully, like a relic. He bowed his head, whispering something softly, almost prayerfully.

He kissed the jug. Then the glass.

Nika noticed this from the living room.

She frowned.

If she drinks… he thought. She will be mine.

He returned to the living room with the mug, but when he saw her look, he hesitated.

"It's… only warm," he said quickly. "For the night. Warm goat's milk always warms you and brings a good night's sleep…"

His cheeks were pink, and he imagined her kissing her forehead, hugging her legs, drinking his milk and telling him she loved him. He couldn't help but think of licking and biting his beloved, especially rubbing her back.