We moved to this apartment a week ago. I haven’t had time to meet anyone yet. And here one day.

There is no more than nine in the morning. The Saturday. I wake up, I don’t touch anyone, I drink coffee, I read Picaba. Day by day at the door. I open. On the threshold a bald man in a maid.

Is there a shuffle?

No greetings, no greetings. I was sitting.

It is.

to go.

Somehow I begin to realize that something is wrong. I say.

First of all, good morning. Secondly, from what to be?

I need to collect the closet.

and collect.

Give me a shrek.

What to do, fucking?

What about you, difficult guy?

to Goodbye.

Close the door. Good morning.