Fuck you Lena.

I jump on the bus. Friday evening and traffic jams. The point of departure is two, one closer and the bus is cheaper there, but the departure is uncomfortable - I run past, thinking 'no guys, I will drive these 200 meters with you for half an hour, I know other places.' She ran, splashed - one on the whole bus - the driver was talking. What is "Fast? This is unlikely, girl, out of the traffic jamming map - to the second bridge, horror. No, I say, I have another map, we’ll go for it. But the meeting side warned - everything stands, I won't go fast, set up, cooked pastilles... And we flew along the most crowded roads with almost no whistle, arrived on schedule. I stand at the door to go out. The driver looks at me and looks at me.
Girl, and you... no one told you.
Was he called a witch? and that. Competitors to spoil and smooth out... to smooth out... tofu! I will not. You passed through my stop.
And at least one whispered while he was back on the crashes...

When I worked with you, I listened to these fictional stories. Don’t fuck here...