I go to the metro. On the other hand, the mother and the little boy are already tired of watching the child’s too mobile games. According to an old parental tradition, she, whispering at me, says:

I will give it to the girl.



The boy is curious, he looks at me in all the eyes. Kiev, I will take it. I show my hands. “Here,” I say, “a recedivist girl, her fingerprints were taken.” I am glad myself that the inaccurately filled stamp at work has gotten out of an alibi.



The boy runs to his mother and asks:

What should I do to take my fingerprints?