This went on for the fourth day. The owner called number 44 to his place.

And then everything was repeated from the very beginning. And her coldness, and his tenacity. And strange flowers of passion, blooming where, in principle, life cannot exist. No. A-priory.

But the man walked her down that road again and again. I spent it as if it was the last thing you need to do in life, because otherwise the world would collapse. And they walked this road together.

And then everything returned to its place.

How she pulled the veins out of him, directly tore his nerves with this dead emptiness in her eyes. Also...