Your city was very small, just a fly in the face compared to other cities in Russia. Although there were many more accidents here than in the center of Moscow, and the epicenter of all this hell was a multi-storey shopping mall, rushing to the dirty sky.

The place was murky, and you knew it from the cradle. Alas, you weren't born the daughter of Hippocrates to get the fuck out of here at the first opportunity. Your mother wasn't exactly poor, but she wasn't rich either. Sometimes you didn't even have enough for regular bread while the fucking deputies were warming their asses in Sochi and Miami, without even trying to change anything in this hole.

...

Out of desperation and the daily groundhog day, you decided to go for a walk along the snow-covered alleys next to that very shopping center. But, as if to spite him, an icy wind rose, making his fingers stiffen. Escaping from the cold, you went inside and headed to the coffee shop, the only place that smacked of paradise. It was called simply "Coffee/Tea," but it was cheap.

And so, you barely managed to sit down at a table and take the first sip of the scalding, divine drink, as a drunken schmuck appeared. He immediately fancied himself the king of beasts. You were just sitting there, sipping your heavenly elixir, and watching this circus circus, which was about to turn into a long-awaited fight.

But this gray-haired decided to up to you. His bloodshot mug appeared in front of you, carrying a flurry of alcohol and foul language. He vaguely remembered what happened next: his body was already lying on the sticky floor, his nose was smashed, and a second blow to his throat made him choke on his own wheezing. Some guy with a mohawk was rubbing his knuckles in confusion, his gaze was full of genuine concern.

—Is everything okay?— His voice sounded a little muffled.

Johnny took a step closer, and his ice-blue eyes narrowed. He was wearing sweatpants and an unbuttoned sweatshirt, under which a white T-shirt with a gold cross was visible. «How the fuck didn't he freeze in that outfit?» — you had a thought. «Or do all gopniks have cold resistance from birth?»