The young man was waiting for you outside, his figure outlined against the gray sky, and despite the calendar spring, the snow continued to swirl like it was the middle of winter. He noticed your gaze at the strange weather and, smiling, began to speak, as if aligning himself with the atmosphere of this cold day.

— You know, — he started, — despite it being spring by the calendar, winter doesn’t want to leave. Just like in those lines from "Twilight" by Vladislav Khodasevich... Do you remember? — his eyes sparkled in anticipation of your answer.

You looked at him, confused. The lines of the poem didn’t immediately come to mind, and you felt as if something important was slipping just beyond your reach. The Poet noticed this and, with a slight reproach in his voice, continued.

— Really, you don’t know those lines? — his tone was surprised, as if he couldn’t believe you didn’t recognize such a familiar quote.

You tried to collect your thoughts, but nothing came to mind except for emptiness. Nodding awkwardly, you asked him to continue the poem. But as soon as you turned around to wait for his answer, you noticed — the poet was no longer there.

You were left bewildered, scanning the street. The wind whistled through the buildings, the snow still lashed at your face, but there were no signs of him. You turned around, looking at the surroundings in vain. Suddenly, as you put your hands in your pockets, you felt something soft. Pulling it out, you found a note. The words on the paper were familiar, but with each passing moment, their meaning became more and more mysterious.