What do the eyes say?

It was already completely dark. We were racing down the road from Pervomaysk when we heard strange sounds.
The tire was cut to shreds. I am afraid to come out, besides it’s cold already. I sit it out in the cabin while the guys with telephones install the spare. We’re alone on the road–it’s past curfew.
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Memento Mori

At the start of the second year we were gathered at the departmental meeting. We answered in alphabetical order which area of scholarship interested us most. I was the second on the list and I mumbled something clueless and embarrassing, since I only with difficulty remembered what “area of scholarship” actually meant. I remembered how a member of our group, after one of our disputes about this very area at a beer hut, told her mom upon coming home that her “peculiar” smell was due to the library being cleaned with alcohol. And thus each of us signed a four year sentence with our mumbling.
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