I go on the bus. The guy is sitting opposite. His grandmother is sitting next to him. A typical representative of the urban subclass. And between us there are three boys, looking 14-16.
We approach the stop, the guy rises up, getting a little bit on the go, and here he fell out of his pocket a few five-thousand notes. Her grandmother’s eyes burned, and the other passengers were stressed too. I even had a vicious thought. And the teenagers quickly sat down on the place of the already jumping grandmother, picked up the money and shouted the already outgoing guy. He turned around, saw the money in their hands and quickly seized his pockets. The money was returned to the owner.
A couple of minutes later, the grandmother said:
Herod is evil, neither to himself nor to an elderly woman, yours!
It is answered with an epic phrase:
We are a lost generation.
It was quiet in the bus.