One of my friends decided to take account of his life. It appears at the beginning of November. And he told me today how he tried to implement it and changed his mind. His name is Anton. I haven’t seen him for six months. The story is short and sad. When the damned virus began to fucking our poor economy into all the cracks, his modest business in Peter broke up. Projects did not agree, potential customers jumped one after another, and already existing ones froze and did not pay for contracts. And all this humiliation hit Antoh at once, gradually driving him into a state of apathy, and then plunging him into a heavy autumn depression. They say if you look at the fire for a long time and do nothing, you will be expelled from the Emergency Service. Each week, Antosha watched his affair sink and did not do the exact nichuya for his own salvation. Thirty-year-old unloaded by the family, a non-drinking man, decided not to turn to anyone for help, but simply to get rid of life in the arms of the grey Neva. At eight o’clock Antonha walked from Ladoga to the bridge of Alexander Nevsky, taking the time to think about the road. To think of a good nihui did not work out, and the autumn Peter's Sky in no way contributes to optimism. In short, he reached the middle of the bridge and crossed the fence to do everything quickly and without thinking. Nihua quickly failed, for five minutes he stopped, and then a sharp sound of a braking car was heard behind his back. Antonha turned around and saw a toyota, from which a large body-built man jumped to him, shouting, "do not think, fool." The man turned out to be quick and strong enough to pull out and take the deceased Antonh to the car.
“Sell, dumb, fast,” he commanded and forcefully struck the suicide in the car.
After the bridge in the car was warm and comfortable. The driver was quietly driving along the coastline, and Antosha melted from the thought that human love and elementary co-participation had still remained in the people, and guessed what the mysterious savior would offer him until they arrived at the Grenadier Bridge.
The car stopped and the man finally spoke.
In short, if you want to fuck up, jump here, let the Petrograd department be responsible for you. I’ll see you again on that bridge, I’ll eat off, so that my mother won’t know. I understood? Go to Nashville.
In short, after this incident, Antocha gathered forces and thoughts, and things seemed to go to the mountain. It turned out that customers were pleased to deal with a person who was energetic and self-owned, rather than a depressed man.