- Hey, who are you? What are you doing here? - a rude cry was heard behind Olga and made her stop.

- I work here, - turning on her heels, the girl tightened the kerchief knot under her hair gathered in a bun and looked into Morozov's eyes. - And you distract me!

Roman's face took on a thoughtful expression. He slowly looked Olga from head to toe, fixing his gaze on her face. The right eyebrow twitched slightly. Lips parted.

- Roman Borisovich, I'm already running! - Irochka dragged with difficulty a tray with a large tureen and a clay pot, in which sour cream was usually served....