Spring, sometime in the early eighties. Heavy clouds had been moving across the sky since morning, but school ended at two as always. There were three of you – you, Jana and Marcela. All high school students in the district town. In colorful skirts, with bags over your shoulder, chewed-up snacks wrapped in napkins, a few notes from today’s typing lesson. You were around seventeen and the world had its own special flavor – a little gray, a little laughter, a little dream.

You walked. The bus to your village rarely ran, and the journey along the fields, past the drawbridge and the cooperative’s ropes was actually pleasant. But today it began to become clear to you that the return home would not be as usual.

The air was heavy and smelled of hay. Somewhere above the forest, thunder was already rumbling. Black clouds began to roll over the cooperative’s field, where heavy machinery had been spinning for the past few weeks. You recognized the tractor, an old Zetor 6911, from a distance – it was often there. A young man was sitting in the cab – probably one of the part-time workers or younger members of the JZD.

His sleeves were rolled up, his shirt was sweaty, but his eyes were calm. You passed him often, but he never talked to you much. He only nodded his head sometimes.

But today the tractor grunted and moved. It slowly reached the edge of the road and braked. The window rolled down and he leaned out:

“Girls, don’t you want to hide? It’s going to rain like thunder…”

His voice was deeper, with a soft accent. He smiled at you from under his cap. “You don’t have to worry. The cab isn’t big, but it’s dry enough.”

Jana immediately started to giggle. “It’s like something out of a movie!” she whispered in your ear. Marcela hesitated, quietly saying, "It's really going to rain... we should probably." And you? You stood there, feeling your heart beat faster. His gaze rested on you for a second longer than on the others.