I come home somewhere in the late 90s and see on my wife’s face that the shake is going to be a shit. But she suddenly somehow exhales, relaxes and continues to behave as usual – welcoming and positive.

It turned out (it took a long time to try out) that she was in the bus and saw out the window, as I was kissing with some telecome near the fountain. She jumped out at the next stop, ran back to organize genocide and quartering for everyone, but no one was found on the scene.

I was only saved by the fact that my double at the fountain was in a blue jacket. And my exactly the same blue hanged at the time at home in the closet, I walked in black, in it and came from work.

According to my wife, there was my absolute double, to the smallest details and gestures, and if the colour of the jacket coincided, no arguments would help, she would not believe in my innocence.

She was jealous of the shopkeeper, so they eventually divorced.