In the cold November days, it is especially pleasant to remember the summer heat.



So, July, the heat, Moscow Metropolitan. The smell of sweat is so thick.

It sets salt on the glass. Passengers are compressed so that "no birth

It is not ". I am in a saraphanchik length "as long as my mom allows". stood

Back to the seats. Suddenly I feel somebody chewing on my thighs.

Specifically, in the place where they are attached to the body. and

touching is not a hand, but something like a brush or a pulp for powder.

Behind the back a strict old voice: "Vasya!"... "Child, what,

Do you think?" Again the touch. "Thanks to you!" and turn back.

There is no possibility! Finally, the "Bibliothek" comes out immediately

Half a car. I turn around. He sits on his knees, at least 80 years old.

his portfolio a-la comrade Dinin, and in the portfolio a healthy mocked

The Cat. The beast from the whisper and noise, is sleeping, nervous and mashed with its tail,

Sometimes I get under my coat. Now it is ahead. "Thanks to you!"

The grandfather cried out. "I totally agree with you. But I am

I’m holding myself in my hands!"