In the early 1990s he studied at Peter in the rank of a starley. Once, after the salary, then the salaries were rare, I leave the subway, buy ice cream and a cigar. Type, I can afford it. I go home happy, through a deserted square, in shape, in one hand ice cream, in the other a cigar. Absolutely unexpectedly, for the first time in a year, a patrol with a major headed is drawn on my way. A cigar is not a cigarette, it is unfortunate to throw it out, ice cream is also unfortunate, and it is also unfortunate to waste it. The Major stops, rolls his harsh eyes on me and stretches his hands. Then he worshiped and showed me with his hands, saying, “Please, Barin, pass through.”