In the kindergarten I had a best friend, he was called Andrew. At the end of the kindergarten we agreed to walk every day after I came back, and I went to the sea with my mom. When we returned, he was nowhere, which made me very upset.

My mother was religious, so she took me to church. And during one of the services I learned from my grandmothers that my friend died and his parents were in prison. Mom and dad calmed me for a long time, and then, over time, I just forgot about it.

It would seem like a terrible story, but only recently, when I came back from the store with my mom, we met his dad and talked. What was my surprise when it turned out that they just moved to the other end of the city.