The hell cake. She got the foundation from the oven, laid out everything needed, pushed the cake back, left. In 10 minutes I come, I open the oven... I hang. There is no cake. One home! Carefully close the oven. I open again. not there. I remember all the signs of schizophrenia I know. Then on the slot machine comes: "Play the slot and give back. It is very important" In case I leave the kitchen, well not to bother... I come back, I open the oven - NO! Why do I go to the mirror... as if there were no external changes. I pick up - a wave of time - in Google "out of the oven disappeared cake". I know I am doing something wrong. I shrugged my hand, there was a reaction. She said to herself: "Julia!!!!! You are an adult, smart woman. Well, where could he go?" I thought of the neighbors attracted by the smell of fresh baking. The balcony is open. I went out and looked. Not even a fig. I go back to the kitchen with a mental disorder. I am depicting aliens craving my cake in their plate and starting to roast... I drink a glass of water. I open the dishwasher to put an empty glass. From there my cake grows astonished... The doors are next to me.
I am sitting with myself.)