The late evening. The heat slept, a light wind. I stood, smoking on the balcony, on the fourth floor. There are five floors of neighbors. I hear, on the fifth, husband and wife quietly talk about something. Neighbors are familiar, 25 years of both.

You are Irene! My husband whispered, it was quick. No one will notice. Once and all!

And then suddenly? I noticed Irene.

What is “CHO”? He continued to hide on a bad husband.

Well, is it too little! Logically my husband objected.

and Nico! All the way! I put the line under the dispute of my husband.

Well, what can the young husband and wife whisper about on the balcony? A clear thing about the diversity of intima, by performing that on the balcony... well, a matter of life, was about to leave, as he heard a strange noise over himself. On top were poured ashes with sand, and another kind of feather resembles peel.

– Okay, let’s push... – his wife shrugged. I heard from her voice that she was very tense. From the top it shrugged, then... on a breathtaking flight past my window the door flew and, with the thunder of the end of the world, landed on the asphalt near the entrance.



As you guessed, these two intellectuals, in order not to drag through the five floors of the staircase the old door left after repair, decided to just throw it off the balcony.