In the neighboring entrance of our house lived twins boys, although they were dressed differently, it was almost impossible to determine who is who. Sometimes watching the kids on the playground, and to pay tribute, the guys were not clumsy, for my own I was calm.
I noticed their father how comfortable they would be in life with such a striking resemblance. What he thoughtfully, after a long pause, said: It is still one hole, then each will be determined by his grandmother, they will calibrate each for themselves.
Years have passed, the last time I saw them as students, studied for economists. I came to my mother for a visit, and here in the courtyard of the crowns, the music played, we all went out to the courtyard, according to the custom to spend the last way to the deceased grandmother neighbor. May God allow everyone to live without illness for more than ninety years. My elderly neighbor was walking behind the grave, and his sons were walking around, one ambal under a hundred kilograms, cutting the seed in his shoulders, next to the same beautifully beaten woman, such as they say - blood with milk. And on the other hand, another son, the prototype of Yuri Nikolaev, a dried, squeezed teenager and next to him the same dried, squeezed wife.
I crossed my forehead and lowered my head so that no one would notice my ridiculous expression of the face, and a thought sounded in my head - THE CALIBRATION!
Each under itself.