I stayed at the store too long and am heading home. It's already chilly and dark. About one in the morning. I'm listening to Russian music in my headphones, since by my count, there are only two Russians in town: me and my friend. A shortage of Russian words. My mood is lifted: I found another new job, ordered a bright sweatshirt with an American flag from Amazon, and have my favorite vanilla Coke in the bag.

I approach my place of residence, which, by the way, I had been looking for for 4 months, and at the last moment, I got a call that one of the Mexicans had unexpectedly moved out. I see someone moving behind a trash can. I pay no attention and keep walking.

Suddenly, I see a small, fat, brownish dog. I look closely. No, that's not a dog; dogs don't look like that. It's a bear cub! Fear and curiosity take over: I feel for my phone in my pocket and take a couple of steps forward. Mistake. A huge two-meter mother bear comes out from around the corner and, sensing danger to her cubs, comes toward me. My legs go weak, the thought 'run' flashes in my head, but I can't. The bear's instinct will kick in and she will chase you. I turn around smoothly and walk away from her in the opposite direction. She follows me.

My throat is dry, my legs are like jelly, but I walk without looking back, hearing a quiet rustling on the asphalt. After 20-30 meters, I looked back anyway. The mother bear stopped, thank God!

Later, I wouldn't get home for another 2 hours and would be falling asleep at work in the morning. But that's not the main thing anymore, and it's boring.

/ After this incident, I saw bears many times, and every time just as suddenly /