- Yaroslava Bogdanovna, the minister is calling you. He is very dissatisfied with something,” Vera told me. Malice gleamed on her face, despite her perfectly polite tone.

Something uncomfortably clenched inside. What could the minister want from me? We met with him only at planning meetings, and neither me nor my department had any complaints until that day.

I dryly thanked Vera and again caught my eye on the bouquet of nineteen pink roses. He towered on her table as a proud banner of victory over all possible rivals. This morning, Vera came to work with a shamelessly happy expression, dragging this pink broom in her hands. Of course, she...