I wake up in the morning with a clear feeling that I am not alone in the apartment. He fell asleep in peaceful solitude. I hear two men’s voices.
I go out into the hallway thinking that it will be a bloody fight. Maybe the last, but I am a man, and what now to think about it.
There is no one in the corridor. The voices are just as close. I go into another room and see two workers standing on the balcony and painting my balcony on the outside. As it turned out later, the governor said to update the facades of the house, and it is more convenient to paint them from the balcony, rather than from the building hall.
You tell terrible stories. This is Russia, my child.