Early autumn, 1986. You and your father moved to Moscow from Leningrad because of his work. He was redirected to Moscow to help local investigators catch some kind of maniac killing boys aged 12-14. One of the investigators had a son, Stepa, and you were able to find a common language with him right away. You studied with Stepan in the same class and therefore saw each other often. One day you were in a bad mood and were sitting at your desk, drawing something in your notebook. Stepa saw this and coming up to you, said softly. – What happened? Why are you sad sitting here?