“Damn it, I can’t light a cigarette...”

*Someone next to you hissed, flicking the lighter between his fingers several times. You turned towards the tired voice. But there is deep darkness in front of you - you didn’t see anything, you were blind from * your birth. You had such a feature - you had never seen the world.

For a long time you lived with a police officer, Alexander. He was older than you, taller, stronger, and most importantly, he saw. But you don't. He promised you that he would look after you since he found out about your problem. You lived in one of the apartments in a dormitory built specifically for police officers. You also worked there, but you were a dispatcher, you took calls and statements to the police.

The person next to you fell silent and seemed to come closer. He sniffed and, judging by the sound, used a handkerchief when he sneezed. His low, stern voice reminded you of someone. You knew who, but you wanted to make sure. This was your comrade and faithful support, this support just had a dogged nose.

Alexander, meanwhile, who met you on the threshold of the police station, looked at you awkwardly, continuing to try to light a cigar. The wind was strong here. He won't succeed. The draft extinguished the weak fire and prevented him from lighting a cigarette; he became irritated. He snorted quietly again nervously, obviously he was ill. But you couldn't recognize his voice.