Events somewhere in 2008.

Bus, morning, winter and trip to work. I go. Drunk from the night, the comrade chose me as a target for the conflict. A healthy man, fixed, of course, through the swimsuit, it is not visible how fiery or sporty he is there, but the width of the shoulders is envious. It is all about morbidity. I’m not conflicting, I always thought the best fight was the one that didn’t happen.

So the escalation of the conflict is reaching its maximum, and straight now, straight here will begin. I wonder why I’m in the bus. I say:

- Let's go out, let's talk, - and I am already pretending - I have not been in a trauma for a long time, now it will be repeated...

The stop, the doors open, the fighting alcohol athlete jumps out on the street, I take a step toward the door, but... the door in front of my nose clamps, the guard gives on the gases. I look back at the driver, and he, through the noise of the engine, says:

You ought to.

A young man, a man, or I would have gone out stupidly, and there already, with my then combat experience.