Foto: Natasha Thompson
Anna, my best friend, decided to take me to a South kensington Art Gallery inauguration party to help me get over Mr. Sik.

I got carried away by London night and its handsome gentelmen; tall ones, small ones, young ones, mature ones, some with dark eyes, some with light eyes, this one looks like  George Clooney, the one on the left like Javier Bardem and the other one like... Mr. Sik? Wait... Mr. Sik is over there!!!

He run away and I rushed after him, but I lose him among a crowd of men wearing a similar outfit. When I saw him again, I managed to grab him by his jacket pocket. Then we both fell rolling down the stairs. He landed over me... Was he actually Mr. Sik? Despite their startling resemblance, he was not him. However, he knew my name: "Dear Maria Petrovsky, the person you are waiting for is not going to come... forget about him!" - said in russian with a strong Lithuanian accent before running out of the building.

Still in the floor, I looked at my hand: when I grabbed his pocket I had teared out a sheet from his passport; born in Vilnus on February 2nd, with a one-year visa for Russia. "Thanks for the information, bastard", I muttered before fainting.