It is spring in Siberia. A few days of weather plus 3-5.
In the morning, a young man enters the bus in a green shirt with short sleeves.
I whisper quietly - probably he's so bitten, because he's not cold?
And so - the heat of 7 degrees, and the storms are no longer 2 meters, as last week, well a meter-and-a-half from the force. I saw a fly.