Chapter 2 - Durlești

 The cold winter wind battered our windshield as we slowly drove down the nighttime street in central Chișinău, heading toward the house. I turned right, and after a few more seconds of driving, we returned to the porch. After parking the car under the covered space, I asked Alina to take the groceries out of the trunk while I covered the car with the tarp we kept in the back seat. Upon entering the house, we found Costin lying on the couch to our left, watching TV. The fireplace was lit.

"Great, you bought firewood, thanks." I said.

"We only brought one box, since we had to walk back — you guys had the car. There’s a bit more in the storage room in the back; it was already there when we arrived yesterday" replied Costin.

Anton was in the dining room, working on some kind of device surrounded by lots of electronic components and small tools. When Alina and I came into the house, he just greeted us with a simple “hey” and kept working.

On TV, a dramatic old Romanian film from the '90s was playing on the Romanian national channel.

“They have the national channel here, nice.” said Alina.

“This one and a few others. There are quite a few Romanian channels available here too.” Constantin replied.

“And what are you watching?”

“A classic. I used to watch it with my mother a lot when I was younger.”

Then, while we talked, a kissing scene came on between the two protagonists, a man and a woman, accompanied by overly dramatic music.

“That was you two today at sunset.” Anton said from the dining room, referring to Alina and me.

“That’s Costin and you when no one’s watching.” Alina shot back.

Constantin and I burst out laughing, while Anton, clearly annoyed, started yelling things we couldn’t make out over our laughter and the TV’s volume. Alina laughed too, more quietly.

“I have better taste — I don’t date dwarves.” said Constantin.

We spent the rest of the night on the couch; Constantin, Alina, and I watched some TV while Anton kept working on his device. Constantin was the first to head to bed, having been watching TV since much earlier — I figured his eyes were tired. Anton occasionally got up from his seat to fetch a tool or component. He carried several pouches in his luggage with all kinds of stuff. When I passed through the kitchen to get some water, I noticed he was assembling light bulbs attached to a strap. Once he finished, he packed up and told us he'd see us in the morning. After grabbing some cookies from the kitchen, he went upstairs to his room. I stayed alone with Alina for about 20 more minutes before turning off the TV.

“I think they don’t want to go.” I said.

“That’s what you three were talking about earlier, I guess.” Alina replied.

“At the time, we thought it might be risky to go alone.”

“But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” she said, letting out a short laugh.

I laughed too, as I looked at her with ironic unease. We cuddled up and talked a bit more about the trip — about how strange the taxi guy at the train station seemed, and how much he reminded us of one of our university professors. After a while, we returned to our room and slept together that night.

---

The next morning, I woke up next to Alina. I got out of bed carefully so as not to wake her, slipped on my slippers, and left the room quietly. In the kitchen, Constantin was already making breakfast — scrambled eggs with tomatoes, a dish he loved preparing on trips because, according to him, it was cheap and nutritious. I preferred sandwiches, as they were quicker to make and easier to take along while exploring. Anton hadn’t come down yet; I figured he was still sleeping.

“Early bird.” I said.

“I like to get everything ready in the morning, otherwise it gets too late and there’s not enough time to do much.”

“There’s still plenty of time.”

It was 7:08 AM, according to the wall clock above the microwave.

“Did you talk to Alina?” Constantin asked.

“Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

“We actually think we should go anyway.”

“I see, alright.”

We paused for a moment, then I continued:

“If you don’t want to come, that’s fine. We can visit other places.”

“It’s fine. We came on this trip because I thought it was a great idea to explore. Durlești isn’t an abandoned city or anything, but it was a cheap alternative with some interesting spots. Chișinău isn’t unsafe, and the rest of the country is generally safe too. But I just wouldn’t like to run into someone during one of our excursions. You know our thing is going to the site at night and seeing whatever we come across.”

“What do you mean by someone? We’ve been doing this for years and all we’ve ever run into were the occasional homeless person.”

“That guy Mr. Mihail mentioned, for example.”

“Seriously? You paid attention to that?”

“It’s true, what he said. I looked into some news from a few years ago — that guy stirred up quite a bit of trouble back then, and they never caught him, so he’s supposedly still out there. And the incidents happened in Durlești — the very area we’re headed to. Even if we’re exploring other parts of the city, I’m not sure it’s that safe.”

“I get you, brother. But I planned this for her…”

Just then, Anton’s footsteps creaked on the wooden stairs. Costin and I went quiet as he came down. Anton greeted us good morning. He was dressed in winter clothes and looked ready to head out. He asked Costin if he was still using the kitchen. Costin said he’d just finished, so Anton took some sausages out of the fridge, put them in a ceramic container with water, and popped them in the microwave.

“Do you mind if I use the car for a while, Vasile? I need some tools — I’m missing a smaller hammer. The one in the back is too big and rusty,” said Anton.

“Is the hardware store open this early? It’s still pretty early.” I replied.

“I don’t know. If it’s not, I’ll wait until it is.”

“It’s really cold — maybe wait a bit before going.”

Anton’s blank expression made me think he was just looking for an excuse to leave as soon as possible.

“I actually need a few other things too. You can use the car.”

Then the microwave beeped. Anton packed his sausages in a container, quickly said goodbye, and walked out the front door.

“What’s up with him?” I asked.

“We talked yesterday, and decided we’ll go on our own. You and Alina can use the car if you want. We’ll visit the more touristy areas — we think that’s the best option if we want to avoid unnecessary risks.”

“I think you guys are taking Mr. Mihail’s words a bit too seriously.”

“Like I said, I did some research and the news is real. There’s even one report about some tools that were found abandoned in certain buildings in Durlești, and they think they might belong to that guy — they were in good condition. That report was from seven months ago, supposedly from a local neighbor.”

“Seems a bit sensational to me — a whole news story just about tools that could belong to anyone?”

“Well, Vasile, I think Anton and I have already made up our minds. Don’t take it personally, but look at it as a chance to spend more time with her. A little time alone could do you both some good.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” I finally replied.

Alina came out of the room a little later. By then, Costin and I had already finished our tomato eggs. Costin said he’d meet up with Anton somewhere downtown and that they were going… somewhere. I didn’t know much about the city, but from what I could gather, they were heading to some key spots in the center. Costin went upstairs to the second-floor bathroom.

Soon after, I turned on the TV just to kill the silence in the room, lowered the volume, and sat with Alina while she had breakfast.

“Did you sleep well?” I asked.

“Very well — better than yesterday.”

“Costin and Anton left us the car. We could go to the ruins first, and then head to the forest.”

“Sounds good. We could even park somewhere and walk around the area, then drive to Durlești in the afternoon. That way, we save on gas.”

She said “afternoon,” because in Chișinău, sunset in January is around 4:40 PM. By the time we’d reach the forest, it would already be night.

I nodded, and while I sipped my coffee, we talked about other things. Some time passed.

After showering and getting dressed in his winter clothes, Costin said goodbye and left for the bus stop. The sky was clear that day. According to the digital thermometer on the counter, it was 0°C that morning.

“Well, I’ll shower first — might as well take advantage of the hot water.” I said.

After I was done, she showered too, and then we got ready. We packed our gear — our cameras, night filters, flashlights, batteries, my lockpick kit, and other essentials for urban exploration. We didn’t bring food — we’d buy some later. We were heading to the Durlești forest, where there were supposedly several abandoned houses we could explore. The reason we chose to go in winter was because we thought we could take a lot of interesting photos — snow always adds a more chilling atmosphere. Plus, the chances of running into someone would be nearly zero.

“Did you bring another bag?” I asked.

“Yes, in case we find something worth taking with us.” she replied.

After making sure we weren’t forgetting anything, I checked the time — it was 9:28 AM. We left and drove toward the ruins.

---

She was driving, and we were still talking about how lucky we were that the weather was decent today. The ruins were closed for the winter season, but that didn’t stop us from seeing them a bit from the outside. We stuck to the plan we had talked about — we spent a few hours walking around the city, sightseeing, had some food, picked up a few supplies at the supermarket, and passed the time until it got later. Now we were headed toward the rural area of Durlești. It was snowing lightly, and there wasn’t much wind.

It was 5:56 PM and already dark. On the radio, a local talk show was playing, though we weren’t really paying attention to it during the ride. She had a GPS app on her phone that showed us the right way. We were close to our destination. The car swayed gently from side to side due to the uneven pavement. We barely saw any people — we were now in a more remote area to the east of Durlești. It was colder, and we were beginning to enter a more rural zone.

Eventually, the houses gave way to trees and bushes, the pavement turned to dirt, and streetlights became less and less frequent. The car kept swaying, but now it also vibrated occasionally, bouncing every time we drove over a pothole we couldn’t see in time due to the lack of light. It was dark, and our only source of light was the car’s headlights, the occasional streetlamp, and the faint glow of the moon.

“About 100 meters left,” said Alina.

She kept driving. Behind a few trees stretching along both sides of the road, I started to spot some houses faintly illuminated by the moonlight. They were a bit farther from the road, but the trees weren’t dense enough to block the view.

“Durlești has some nice houses — I saw a few online — but this particular area is the only one with places to explore,” she said.

After driving a bit more, she pulled over to the side of the road. I suggested she park in a small space available next to one of the dirt paths leading to the houses, just to make sure we didn’t block the main road. Alina agreed and reversed, repositioned the car, and parked on the grass farther from the road, backing up so the car faced away from the main path. We got out and opened the trunk to grab our backpacks. Once ready, we started walking toward the abandoned area.

It took us about two minutes to reach the area, lighting our way with our long-lasting flashlights, though the moonlight helped a little too. The first thing we noticed after walking a bit farther were several streetlamps — some slightly tilted — that once lit up those homes. Obviously, they no longer worked. Then, we saw three nearby houses: one on the left and two on the right, a bit farther back. In the distance, we could see more structures, though we couldn’t count how many.

The house on the left was surrounded by a small fence that could easily be climbed over. To its right was a small plot that probably used to be a garden. That house was particularly deteriorated — its white paint had peeled over the years, and part of its roof had collapsed.

“Maybe it’s not a good idea to start with this one — it might be unstable.” I said.

We kept walking until we got closer to the two houses on the right. They were closer together and didn’t have side gardens, though one seemed to have a small space out back. When we lit up the nearest house, we noticed it had no fence. It had beige paint, was made of concrete, and both its roof and walls looked to be in good shape. The house next to it also seemed stable.

“You choose — which one do we go into?” I asked.

“The beige one. It looks bigger, and I think it has a yard we can explore too. I want to see if it’s safe to go up to the second floor.”

“Alright.”

After passing the small porch, I approached the door — it was locked. Alina suggested using my lockpick kit, which I usually carried for situations like this. But I had another idea — I didn’t want to force the door. I looked to my right at one of the sliding windows. I tried nudging it gently, then with a bit more force to see if it would open — no luck. Using my flashlight, I lit up the space between the window and the frame and spotted a wire latch — the kind you just lift to unlock. Using a piece of wire from my lockpicking kit, I slowly lifted the latch, trying not to break it. After a few seconds, I managed to release it, then pushed the window to the right with some effort. The friction between the wood and the frame made a sound like two surfaces scraping against each other. Eventually, I managed to open it wide enough to get through.

“Brains over brawn.” I said.

“Ooh, my hero.” she replied.

We took off our backpacks and placed them inside through the window — it wasn’t very big, and we figured we wouldn’t fit through with them on. We climbed inside the house — not an easy task, considering how much bulk our winter clothes added — and made sure not to step on anything that could trip us up. Once inside, we noticed the air was stale and full of dust. It was still cold, even indoors. When we turned on our flashlights, we saw a living room with a rustic wooden table in the center. There wasn’t much furniture — the only piece we could see from where we stood was to our right: a tall, classic wooden cabinet, likely left behind because it was too heavy to move.

In front of us was a door that seemed to lead to another room — likely the kitchen. To our left was a staircase leading to the upper floor, and beneath the stairs, there was a small door that was probably a closet or a storage room. Alina had already started setting up her camera while I wandered a bit around the living room. After a few seconds, she snapped a picture of me opening the door to what turned out to be the kitchen, just as I had suspected.

“I’ll take a few photos down here and then go up to see if there’s anything interesting on the second floor.” said Alina.

“You mean the first floor — we’re on the ground floor.”

“Depends where you’re from. Some countries call this the first floor, like in America. Others call it the ground floor. I prefer using numbers — keeps things simple.”

“Did you read that online?”

“No, an English teacher told us that in class — back in my early college years.”

“That one you had a crush on?”

Alina raised an eyebrow and smiled sheepishly, as if her eyes were saying, “Seriously? You're bringing that up now?”

“It was more of a platonic crush — I was younger back then.”

We both smiled. After a few seconds, I went into the kitchen. While setting up my camera to take some photos, Alina had already taken some photographs and now went upstairs. I returned to the living room.

“Careful coming back down — I’m checking out the storage room under the stairs, and I don’t want you crashing down on me if they collapse.” I said.

“I won’t. I’ll let you know when I’m coming down.” she replied.

---

It was 7:14 PM. We’d explored two houses. We managed to take some great photos in the first one—our cameras’ night filters were ideal for capturing light, and the moonlight streaming through the windows amplified the effect. We found some abandoned utensils in the kitchen, which we piled up and photographed. In the storage room, there was only an old rake, which I also photographed. On the second floor, the rooms were empty except for a small, vacant wardrobe in one. There was also a completely stripped bathroom—the toilet, sink, and other fixtures had been removed. We identified it as a bathroom thanks to the white tiles and the exposed plastic pipes that once carried water. Still, the photo Alina took of that bathroom was my favorite of the night—it evoked an incredible sense of mystery and isolation.

The second house was a smaller wooden cabin, easier to enter as it had no door. It didn’t have a second (or first) floor, but it did have an attic we chose not to explore—it didn’t seem strong enough to hold our weight. The structure had a larger plot behind it that looked less like a garden and more like a small domestic cultivation area. Inside, there was a simple bathroom, a room with an old metal bed frame without the mattress, and a small kitchen next to the back door. We didn’t spend long there— as it only had a few old tools scattered around—but we still took photos of the tools and the hatch leading to the attic. Afterwards, we speculated it might have been a farmer’s cabin, though it seemed odd for it to have an attic.

We decided to explore one last place before it got too late. It was colder now, but we thought we might capture some snowy outdoor shots—so far we’d only taken photos of covered spaces, except for a few of the garden and plot. We were slightly farther from the cabin we just visited; to reach this spot, we had to turn right onto a small path leading to more remote properties off the road from where we came. The terrain here was flatter with fewer trees. Continuing down the path, we eventually spotted a structure with a rather irregular shape. As we got closer, we realized it was a house with a partially collapsed roof.

“Shall we go in? I don’t think a roof can collapse twice.” I said.

“What if it’s unstable?”

“Let’s take the risk—I think it’s a good opportunity for some striking photos.”

“Alright, but just this once.”

I didn’t immediately know why I chose to enter this half-collapsed house when earlier we’d decided against similar structures. I guess my adventurous instinct kicked in after the other two houses didn’t turn out as interesting as we’d thought. We entered through what used to be the main entrance, now littered with broken wood and debris. We had to go in carefully—the ground was a bit sloped, and the snow made it slippery. Inside, we found more debris on the floor, likely from the first floor’s collapse. The stairs were still intact but led nowhere—the first-floor hallway had also caved in. We could see some doors inaccessible from below, so we limited ourselves to exploring the ground floor and maybe a small room not blocked by larger debris. In front of us stood an old chimney that probably helped support the remaining structure. To the left, besides the stairs, was a doorframe without a door leading into a room. Our options were few—it was more spacious than the rest of the other houses, but nearly filled with debris. I knelt down and took a photo as soon as we entered.

“Finally, I got a good shot.” I said.

Alina came closer to inspect it. The lighting was perfect: I’d captured snow resting on the rubble, the half-destroyed second floor, and the old, soot-covered chimney gave it a somber feel. Most of the floor was covered in broken wood, but some patches revealed the original flooring. Even with the night filter, details were hard to make out—but I thought I could enhance the image later with additional filters on my laptop. This shot was basically what I’d hoped for that night, so I took several more from the same angle just in case.

“And that doorframe on the left makes it even better—I love it.” said Alina.

We edged carefully toward the frame, shining flashlights to see where we stepped. I jumped over a small dip between the debris and the floor, then moved through the frame into what I confirmed was the kitchen. Before I could examine it closely, I heard a wooden creak behind me, then planks falling and clattering. Turning around, I saw Alina kneeling on her left knee, her hands on broken boards, and with her right leg trapped in a hole that had opened where I’d just jumped. In that moment, I thought: “Shit—I forgot to warn her about the terrain.” Rookie mistake. Without a word, I dropped my backpack wherever, crouched as best I could, and grabbed her by the right shoulder. Before pushing with any force, and for safety, I asked:

“Are you okay? Can you move out slowly?”

“I’m not hurt—just help me, push carefully.”

That’s what I did. We had limited space—we were almost directly under the frame leading to the kitchen. I spotted an old hinge I could use as leverage and used it to help lift her shoulder vertically. Pushing horizontally might have worsened the hole or hurt her leg with jagged wood. In the end, I didn’t need to push hard—Alina, being as athletic and cautious as she is, did almost all the work on her own. With some effort, she freed her right leg from the hole, and I helped steady her, all while she still had her backpack on. She staggered slightly as she pulled free, her left hand slipping on a plank, but after a few small adjustments, she regained balance and got to her feet, moving through the frame. Her backpack bumped my nose as she passed.

“Are you hurt?” I asked again.

“No. I felt some wood rub against my leg, but my clothes protected me—that was lucky.”

“That was close—I wasn’t sure what I heard, I thought debris might’ve fallen from above.”

“I’m fine, it’s okay now…”

After a short silence—adrenaline still buzzing—I said:

“It was my fault. I jumped that gap and didn’t warn you—I totally forgot.”

“Rookie mistake.” Alina said, panting.

We both laughed, paused to catch our breath, then kept laughing. About twenty seconds of effort, but enough to leave us exhausted—I was already sweating. Alina, bent halfway over with her hands on her knees, straightened her spine, removed her backpack, and set it down on her right. She positioned herself under the frame and turned on her flashlight to illuminate the hole she’d fallen through moments earlier. She shone it for a few seconds, then, after refocusing her eyes, said:

“I think I can see a brick wall down there.”

When I heard that, I turned on my flashlight as well and gently moved Alina to one side to shine my light into the hole. Sure enough, a red-brick wall was embedded in the left side of what looked like a subterranean room.

“I think it’s a basement.” I said.

“Seems like it.”

“You think...?”

I paused—I was thinking whether we should try to go down or find another entrance to the basement. But after her fall earlier, I didn’t want to push her into more risk. I assumed she was tired and overwhelmed. However, after what felt like five seconds, she asked:

“Do you want to see if we can find a way in?”

Her question surprised me, given everything. Of course I wanted to go—I didn’t overthink my answer.

“Let’s do it.”

I suggested checking the kitchen first, but it was so small that in the end we decided not to take any photos—we already had plenty from the other house. We gathered our backpacks, carefully climbed out over the hole, and retraced our steps to the collapsed entrance. Once there, we turned right and circled the property outside. After walking a bit more and cutting right again, we discovered a door that must have led to the back entrance—something we missed from inside because of the debris. What really caught our attention, though, was a Bilco-style basement door: sloped, like the kind you see in movies, set between the ground and the exterior wall, and opening like a double window.

“I think this is the way in.” I said.

As we approached, we saw it was locked with a padlock. Alina suggested I use the small bolt cutter I carried to try breaking it. I declined—the shackle was too thick for such a small tool. Instead, I opted to use my lockpick to try opening it. I handed my flashlight to Alina, and while she helped illuminate the door, I knelt down. With my left hand, I secured my hooked wire on the keyway; I held it steady with my thumb, then inserted my pick with my right hand, carefully pushing each pin inside—from back to front—one by one until they were all aligned. It took me about three minutes. The padlock clicked open.

“This is the one thing I think you're better at than me—I suck at this.” Alina said.

“That’s why I’m the man of your life.” I said, turning to give her a playful wink. She laughed.

The padlock fell to the ground. I picked it up and offered it to Alina in case she wanted to keep it. She took it and stored it in one of her side pouches. While she did that, I had already moved ahead to open the basement door. Once it was open, we descended, holding our backpacks with one hand while using the other to grip the upper door frame above us, careful not to trip or bump our heads. We left the door open.

At the bottom, we found a square-shaped room roughly the same size as the house’s base above. Five oak pillars and numerous wooden beams formed a solid frame that held up the ceiling—or rather, the floor of the house above. Several handmade cupboards were scattered around the room. We saw a toolbox with nails on the floor, and a pile of wooden planks in the left corner as we entered. There were other objects too: a chest, a workbench, and what looked like a false wooden wall in front of us at the far end. There were also some old electrical cables coming from the house above, which we hadn’t noticed before. These were connected to outlets fixed into the walls. Pointing my flashlight up to the right, I spotted the hole in the ceiling that Alina had fallen through earlier—the same one where we’d seen the brick wall from above, now to my right. We moved in further.

“Looks like a builder’s basement… or a worker’s.” said Alina.

“Maybe it was just his hobby. He took all his tools but left his table. This might’ve been his happy place.” I joked.

“I like the pillars. They take up some space, but they look great.” she replied.

She snapped a picture of me in front of one of the pillars—this time using the flash. I was facing away. She got ready to take a second shot; this time, I posed with a surfer hand gesture and my tongue out, smiling.

“Let’s check the room a bit more and head back—it’s getting late, and I’m not sure how much battery my flashlight has left. I have fresh spare batteries, but I want to save them for another day.” I said.

“Alright, take the photos you want—I want to see if there are any interesting items left.”

Using my camera, I took a picture of the five pillars from the far right corner closest to the ceiling hole. Alina appeared in the photo, facing away, with the workbench and the false wall in the background. Then I took three shots of the hole—one from a sharp angle, another directly underneath showing parts of the collapsed ceiling and the moonlit sky above, and one more where the kitchen doorframe upstairs was slightly visible.

I then took a photo of the closed chest. When I opened it and found it empty, I took another of it open anyway. I crossed to the other side of the room and photographed the planks, two of the cupboards, the cables and outlets, and some black stains on the brick wall. It all took me about five minutes.

Alina had already checked most of the room, but stayed mostly behind me so she wouldn’t show up in my photos. When I’d taken the last shot of the night, I turned and saw her shining her flashlight at the false wall. She was staring at it, seemingly fixated on something.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah… It’s just that…”

She stopped.

“It’s just that what?” I said.

“Nothing. I just found this wall curious. It’s clearly separating one part of the room from another. I was wondering if there’s more space behind it, but you can’t see anything from this side. I guess the only way to know would be to break through…”

“No way. If we tried that, the ceiling would definitely come down on us.”

“I wasn’t suggesting it—I was just saying that would be the only way in… if we wanted to.”

Her tone made me realize my words might’ve offended her. She was assertive and smart, but also sensitive. Lately, she had been a bit more temperamental due to her condition, which I understood. After a short pause, I said:

“Sorry—I didn’t mean it like that.”

Alina said nothing, lowering her gaze, then looking right toward the wall before turning back to me. I added:

“Anyway. I think we should start heading back. Tomorrow I’ll show you the pictures—I might be able to enhance some of them on my laptop.”

“Okay. I’ll show you mine too.”

My dirty mind kicked in.

“Alina… Not here, please.”

“Not here, Vasile, at the house—oh my god! You pig, I just got it.” she said, slapping her palm to her forehead in embarrassment.

We exited the basement and shut the Bilco door. The night air felt colder. We circled the house on the opposite side, passing the rear exit we’d seen earlier. We crossed the snow-covered grass diagonally until we reached the dirt road, marked by a small wooden fence we easily climbed over. We passed the small agricultural cabin and, shortly after, returned to the main path. We walked for another 20 minutes. After a bit more distance, we passed the three houses near the entrance, and farther on, there was our car.

We loaded our gear into the trunk. I drove back home using Alina’s phone GPS—I wasn't good with it—and a bit of verbal help from her. When we got home, I looked at my watch: it was 8:50 PM. It had been dark for several hours already, and my body told me it was time to sleep. I wasn’t hungry—I’d devoured a sandwich on the way back to the car in Durlești.

We took our things from the trunk and stepped onto the porch. There, Alina hugged me from behind as I opened the door.

“Thanks for today.” she said.

“You’re welcome, love.”

She held me for a few seconds. When she let go, we entered the house and found Anton working at the dining table. He greeted us with a wave.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Good, really good. What about you guys?” I replied.

“Same. We walked through the city center, stopped by the town hall. Later we tried to visit the ruins, but they were closed for winter.”

I didn’t remember Costin mentioning they were going to the ruins—maybe I hadn’t paid attention if he said so at breakfast.

“We stopped by there today too.” said Alina.

“Yeah… After that, we just hung out at a park and then grabbed a bite at a restaurant. Came back early. Where did you guys go?”

I assumed Costin had told Anton we were heading to the rural area near Durlești.

“Durlești. We took some photos you might like. Is Constantin asleep?” I asked.

“Not sure. He went to his room a while ago. I stayed down here to finish a few things.”

“Is that a helmet light?” Alina asked.

“Sort of. It’s a long-lasting helmet light, but I wanted to be able to attach it to my belt too. Detach it from the helmet and bam, click it onto the belt and vice versa. Super handy and compact. I’ve tested it with different belts and fittings, but I still can’t make it practical or comfortable. I think I’ll try a different hardware store.”

“You could buy one of those helmet-belt flashlight combos. I think I’ve seen them before.” I said.

“That’s for Vasiles—aka losers.” Anton replied with a mocking smile.

I gave a fake hiss of laughter to ignore the bad joke.

Anton had already started packing up his tools after that. He paused for a moment and asked:

“Wanna go do something together tomorrow? Costin told me besides the forest, there’s a synagogue, an observatory, even an abandoned nuclear plant. I think they’re farther out, so we’d need the car.”

“Costin changed his mind about exploring Chișinău?” I asked.

Anton didn’t answer right away—he looked at Alina with a nervous smile.

“Vasile already told me about your talk yesterday—it’s fine.” said Alina.

“Well… to be honest, today was kind of boring,” Anton replied. “And I think Costin got so tired of looking at tourists that he changed his mind. I think I did too. Still, let’s not go crazy—let’s try to come back earlier tomorrow, what do you think?”

“Sounds good to me. What about you, Alina?”

“Same here. Either way, I think it’s better if we talk to Costin tomorrow.”

Anton nodded. He had already packed up his things, and shortly after, said goodbye and went upstairs to his room. I told Alina I’d wait for her in the bedroom. She was in the kitchen now, getting ready to make herself some dinner.

I entered the room, and exhausted from the long outing, lay down on the bed on my back. After a few minutes, I closed my eyes and drifted off without much trouble.

---

I don’t know if I was fully conscious—or if I was still in a stupor at that moment. Maybe I was still asleep, dreaming. I don’t even know what time it was, but I thought I heard, maybe in the middle of the night, the door of the room closing slowly. I shifted positions and quickly fell back asleep.