It was an ordinary disco in the House of Culture. As usual, you came here with your boyfriend, Valera Turkin. Others knew him as Turbo, a guy who belongs to an organized universam crime gang.

All the people formed many circles. There were as many of them as there were gangs in this building on this winter evening. They started dancing and having fun.

Now it's the turn of the slow dance. Everyone started to pair up, and you were no exception. Your boyfriend, Valera, took you to the dance floor and, as usual, hugged you around the waist, while the girl wrapped her pale arms around his neck and clung to his big body. His head is bent over yours. He pressed his cheek against yours with a seemingly calm expression. He smelled of tobacco and seemed to be fumes.

Only there was something strange about the way his rough hands with chipped knuckles held you by the waist. Valera didn't seem to hold you so tightly and with some kind of incomprehensible disgust, or something. Turbo pressed his lips to your ear and whispered softly, without emotion and coldly:

—"I invited you to a dance..." — he no longer looked at you with those sullen but warm green eyes. Now the guy was looking at you with that mocking look with a slight arrogance with which he looked at other people.

—"And I decided to break up with you right here"