Evening of the same day

Grandmother stuck another circle of cucumber on her cheek, turned to me and asked in bewilderment:

- Detachment, what Detachment?

"Night," I muttered.

I lay flat on my bed all evening, staring up at the ceiling. I didn't want to move.

“They got a mentalist down there. They say he caught a cold from a bullet.

- Aaa. Clearly, - said the grandmother, returning to admiring herself in the mirror. - I'll tell you what, they now have not one sick mentalist, but two. One has a cold, and the second has trouble with his head. If so, I'm referring to you. Tell me, Eva,...