My parents met this way: Mom, long-loved with Dad, decided to kiss him before leaving for another city. She walked into the entrance, kissed him and ran away. But how badly she came... caroch: broke her leg. He is lying in the entrance, swirling in the throat. My dad, slightly stunned after kissing, rushed to help her. He took her to the injury point and took care of her. And now listen to what my mother recently told me: She, long in love with her dad, decided to spend the whole day with him and try to fall in love with herself. She did it this way: agreed with her aunt from the injury point that everything would be arranged for her as a fracture of her leg, pre-painted her leg in red and rehearsed the pain. I went to the entrance to my dad, kissed, specifically fell... well, and then you know. Dad still doesn’t know.