I stand in a row at the box with cognac, in front of me a woman with a little daughter in a bright pantyhose. The girl is playful, shakes her mother's legs, her mother unhappyly beats her hands: "Stop! »

Their turn came, and suddenly my mom shrugged her hands and said to the girl, “Oh, tea, we forgot to take! Stay here, I hurry, pass the man forward! »

“Girl, I can go,” I turned to the little girl.

The seller slightly jumped, looked at me and rounded her eyes, apparently remembering something important. The girl waved her thick, curly hair and turned to me. From underneath the puppy, I was looked at sadly by a weary middle-aged uncle. by Igor Nikolaev. The pain of his eyes cannot be expressed in words.

"Sorry," I answered silently, "I went on," calculated and went, but chose, contrary to the proposals, another way - home.