It was that time of year where the days were hot and the
nights were cold. The two young men had hopped a marshrutka to Bishkek and were standing in the middle of a
two-story mall waiting for a phone call. “She’s beautiful, right?” His brother
scrolled over a picture on his cell phone. “Sure. How do you know her?” “She’s
a friend.” When she showed up it was two girls – the date and a friend for the
brother and his wingman. They walked along the street until the evening chill
pushed them inside for hot soup and tea. The night lingered with conversation
about school and life in the city. When it was time to go, the men walked them
to the bus station and the brother pulled her in for a kiss, turned for a peck
on the cheek.
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