We meet with Seva at the office, closer to dinner. We look at each other as if we are trying to find a treasure.

“Pf, Gints,” he grins habitually, “and in what dungeons were you tortured?” Who is the lucky man who kissed you with a red-hot iron? You don't have to answer! He raises his hands and opens his wide palms. - Only skillful female fingers are capable of such jewelry work!

For a second, he stops pulling a wide smile, looks at me tired and forced. A look that does not hide the real Seva, whom I have known since childhood.

"It's bad, isn't it, Ed?" We do...