The evening. I am standing in the line to the food box. A man in front of a miner. He patiently waited until the old lady had finished reporting to the treasurer for the wrong pricing and rounded around and only wanted to hand over the bottle for payment, as he was wiped off by the stunned lady, who had just flattered at the turn of all the others.

“I only have sausages!” - correctly notices the lady, pushing the servette stick forward on the tape.

The treasurer is indifferent to the goods, as at this moment the guy calmly takes and launches the sausage along the ballistic trajectory somewhere deep in the hall.

“You don’t have a sausage...” and stretches out his water for payment.

I don’t know why, but I felt brighter.