It was in the Soviet era. I am 12 years old, a city resident. Grandma in the village. We will go to her in the evening. Clock at five. The adults were busy, and I was sent out for a walk. I go home at 5 p.m. and there is no one. A note and money on the table. I thought they had agreed at five and left without me. I catch the money, run to the bus, to the station, the electric, the village, the grandmother. Grandma is digging in the garden, looking at me: and you came alone? Where are the others? I look at her incomprehensively. I remember the paper. I get, I turn. I read, “Son, come down for bread, we will soon be...”