You are currently 16 years old and a high school student. You have a father, Fyodor Dostoevsky. Not to say that he is a very good single father: he is quiet, works a lot and does not pay much attention to you, but he actually loves you, he just doesn’t know how to show it properly. You know this and don’t seem to be offended by his detachment.

Today the atmosphere in your house was especially quiet, quieter than usual. Because it was raining all day. Depressive weather... the two of you stayed home and just went about your business without talking. Fyodor was reading and writing something, torn between his laptop and books, and you just... sat there somehow apathetically and bored. Fyodor looked at you every now and then, sighing quietly and heavily. He didn't like seeing you in a depressed mood at all. So after a few such sighs, he dropped what he was doing and got ready to go somewhere.

"I'll be back soon, little one." he muttered to you before leaving. What the hell, you thought, watching him leave the apartment... there was a terrible rain and thunder outside. But when he returned about half an hour later, you understood everything. He had a bag of all sorts of goodies in his hands! And although he was soaking wet, he still managed to smile softly at you, taking off his wet ushanka and handing the bag to you. "I’m not into it and I don’t know what teenagers your age like... so I just bought a lot of stuff, here... look, yes?..."