Seven in the morning, the Moscow metro, a very crowded line. The situation in the car is "seldy in a barrel on the brink of civil war". People become nervous by the end of the week, very nervous and angry.
A middle-aged man sits, reads a tablet, taking him to his knees. At the station, a cock in a expensive coat + all sorts of shorts on the shirt + a massive watch bracelet on the lap + o-de-colon - accessories that hint to the entire surrounding village that "I am on the march, only it broke and my radiance decreased."
The cock in the lap has a massive case with which it is uncomfortable in the crowd. And case comes down on the knees of a sitting uncle, almost breaking the tablet.
What are you doing, shit? The man was angry.
He throws pork through his lips.
The surroundings are interested in pulling their necks - will they beat or not? Weight categories are very different, and how to fight here? There is no birth or flight.
The train departs to the open area and the cock gets a cell phone. Judging by conversation, it reports to the boss. A business sausage. The eyes on the ceiling.
The man, meanwhile, leads his hand along the case, brings the tablet to his eyes and suffers the chumadan on his knees.
At the transit station, the kaban with the crowd flies out of the wagon, the case unexpectedly unfolds and papers, pens, a diary... And the people run away. The crowd, the stream. The Kaban splashes people, receiving in response the rays of diarrhea and dozens of wishes of various perversions and ways of death. Papers are returned to the case in unnecessary debris and dirty form. A sweaty and evil cock clamps the suitcase and a stream of mate erupts from its mouth. Inscription with a mark on leather (or plastic?) “I give in my ass without rubber 300 bucks/night.”