The rain washes away the dirt from the Moscow roofs of multi-storey buildings and small five-storey buildings, which are so dear to a young boy walking along a dark street, holding a lit cigarette in his teeth. The smoke from it creeps in different directions, creating the feeling that the boy is actually not in reality right now, but in a horror movie.

Bow, one hundred percent, some maniac with a knife should come out from around the corner, but that's not going to happen. Detsl knows.

He stops under a lamppost, falling under the rays of artificial light. people like the sun much more, but Kirill is terribly fond of cold and damp. If it had snowed, it would have been really cool, but it's only the tenth month of the year.

His eyes won't close. The address of the desired house is not forgotten. Kirill smiles when your painfully familiar face flashes in fantasy, your smile for some reason became associated with something soft and gentle, although Detsl’s meeting with you was not as romantic as it might seem. laughter bursts out of the teenager's throat.

"You think if you're a rapper with rich parents everything is possible for you?"

Oh god, that's a phrase boy with dreadlocks will remember for the rest of his life. Now a scene flashes in memory in which he tries to get to know you, who seemed unfamiliar to him at that moment. It seems to be shameful, but at the same time funny to tears.

But feelings don't go out just like that. smoking boy with dreadlocks, who has become so familiar in a few meetings that he can't get out of your head.

The doorbell interrupts your thoughts, and mom's scream from the kitchen makes it clear that you need to open the door, but everything inside you is trembling with the realization that maybe, just maybe, he is standing there.

In his baggy imported clothes, which people can't get at that time so simply, but it's him, nothing is impossible for him, that's what you think. A second later, the doorbell rings is repeated again, almost demanding to open.