I go to the metro. Very tight in the car. I stand, holding my hand for the top assignment. Next to me are a couple, a girl and a young man. Also hold on to the top assignment. The girl's hand is very close to mine, even the sluggish touches the edge of the palm, and the guy puts his over her, gently glimpses and something whispers on her ear. The girls smile happily, looking him faithfully in the eyes.

Everything that followed happened very quickly.

The wagon shakes sharply. I held my hand, and the girl could not and pulled off. She pushed my shoulder, apologized and immediately grabbed her hand again for the order, but not before my palm, but behind it. The guy, without looking again, placed his hand on his palm from the top... Only not on her, but on mine—he didn’t look up, he just touched my palm with his hand and laid his palm from the top. We were all in gloves and he did not feel the difference.

Continuing to whistle something gently to the girl's ear, I began to gently chew my palm from the top, mowing her. All this lasted a few seconds.

I quietly look him in the face, questioningly lifting up my eyebrows, he looks at me dissatisfied—like why am I interfering with their idylly? I point my head to his hand lying on mine. He looks unconscious.

As the squeezed pulls off his, thickly redens and presses out "Sorry! “Both bullets flew out of the car at the stop, a girl jumping from laughter, a guy with a stone face.

Spring is fucking.