I just started working at the receiver. We went to bed in turn, and I got used to sleeping in the middle of the eye, I heard the scream of the brakes of the shrimp, jumping from the couch, wearing a shirt, and meeting, opening the door. I worked in this mode for six months and I got used to it.



Someday I sleep at home, as always in the middle of the eye, and on the hanging at the door a clean and smooth set of shapes hangs. And here I heard the screw of the brakes at three o’clock at night, jumping on the machine, wearing a shirt and going past my mom’s room, my mother asks me, say, my son, where I went, and I in response to the type – Mom, sleep, the ambulance came, meet, and I go on to the front door, I open, and in my head the thought, the ambulance, Mom, work, home, the corridor is not a hospital, the door is home, the shirt is working. Here is a native ambulance past my door, and the city is small and all the doctors know each other, and they see the health care worker me in cowards and a working shirt, standing at the entrance in tapas with the words "What did you bring this time?" Of course, I woke up in 5 minutes and realized that it worked out, but almost all of theirs were choking me for another month.