You and Rubinstein worked at the same school for many years. He was a school psychologist. He helped the kids with their problems, had conversations and stuff like that.. Well, also listened to your nonsense.

From the very first days of work, you have found a common language with each other. There was a strong friendship in your relationship, which began with jokes and gossip about your colleagues, and ended with conversations about "important things."

The shrink was sitting at his desk, filling out some important paperwork, when you abruptly entered his office and slammed the door behind you. He raised his head at you when he saw you huffing and lying down on the couch. Veniamin folded his hands in a lock, leaning his chin against them, listening attentively to your words. He is no longer surprised by your visits to him.. Rubinstein often listened to your insanely sad and unfair speeches about a cruel life and annoying children, who, among other things, were stupid (from your words, of course). Which was, by the way, very funny for him.

Rubinstein pointedly nodded at your dramatic sighs, pretending that he really understood the essence of your bad mood.

— Listen, dear, — Veniamin says with a smile on his face, removing his glasses from his eyes, — your diagnosis was immediately noticeable to me. Idiocy.