In our house on the floor below us lived a family - husband, wife and son with daughter (equalers to us and brother). Especially we didn’t communicate with them, I don’t know what happened, but the head of the family uncle Volodya started drinking a lot. Tired of endless drunkenness, the rest of the household expelled him from the house. Uncle Volodya bombarded, periodically visiting home and overnight on the staircase.

I remember my parents were sorry for him, they said that he was a good man.



So, I came once from school (I was 13 years old), I do lessons. There’s a bell at the door: “I’m your neighbor from below, Ivanov, Dad Masha and Sasha. Can I put water?” I look in the eye - Uncle Volodya, his hand with a plastic bottle stretches.



For half a minute I struggled with myself: on the one hand, a thousand times it was said not to open the door to anyone. On the other hand, the compassion and the desire to help were great.



In general, I opened, greeted him, asked him to wait outside, took a bottle, filled it with water, opened the door and gave it. Uncle Volodya polently thanked, I was already going to close the door, as the neighbor tightly took the door pen and stopped it.



“Listen,” he said with a suddenly changed voice. Never do that again! Why should I break into my apartment right now?



I tried to lock the door again from fear, but Uncle Volodya managed to put his foot between the door and the door.



What will you do now? You cannot even resist! Listen carefully – never! Under no circumstances! Do not open the door to others. I understood?



“Ddda,” I wavered, filling myself with hot shame and half with fear.



He cleaned his leg, turned and left. I closed the door to both locks for two turns.



Well what to say: thank you, very intelligent!