It was a long time ago, human greed was not yet out of the boundaries, and compassion for grief was natural. I knock at the door, I see the neighbors on the ground up, vanity what it is.

I open. Two daughters came, in tears, clothes trembling. They say, “Help, whoever can, to the funeral, our grandfather died!” A neighbor-grandmother on the venue slowly began to count the money in her wallet, saying, "Woe what! “”

I asked, “Which apartment?”

From the “59th”

I am standing, dumb, reading a familiar number.

I live on the first floor, apartments up to the 36th... I go further, in my head I think, so the second entrance, the sixth floor, the apartment to the right...

Bl... that! This is Serena’s apartment. A friend from his childhood, yesterday drunk beer with him in the park! He lives with his mother and has no one else. What kind of grandfather? All my childhood was running. "And the number of the apartment remembered only visually, while Serezha was wearing the socks under his pants! Here is the room at the door of the apartment and stumbled out of impatience.

Why the children number? Sixth floor, right, here is the full address! He briefly stopped the neighbor, telling the aunts that they should disappear for five minutes before the police arrived. They really evaporated faster... So I first encountered this kind of scam, and the grandmother of the neighbor was in shock.