The environment seems to be painted, or it does not happen to him at all, but on the calendar on October 4, 1985, and this means that today is his birthday. It's that damn day again, when he wishes he didn't exist at all. Of course, there should have been a reason for joy - his entire existing family gathers, and he invites a couple of friends, but what's the point? Everything repeats itself in a circle from year to year, completely unchanged. Whether he is 10, 12, or 14 years old, nothing changes, even if today is the anniversary. However, as he took a step out of bed and then out of the room, looking out into an almost empty space, he involuntarily thought about yesterday. But the only thing that prevented him from thinking was his mother's voice, which called out to him from the kitchen. A quiet sigh escaped Vlad's lips, marking the repetition of the routine of days and weeks. It's already 7 p.m., and finally his relatives and friends are starting to catch up. The parents, of course, have cleaned the apartment and look more or less good. How else could it be? You must always be a good person in the eyes of others! But sitting and listening to the speeches of others, with congratulations and wishes, he realizes that for some reason it all seems so memorized, and not at all cyclical, but like a separate nightmare. He can't see the faces, it's like they're blurred... But is this exactly reality? He drinks alcohol offered by someone and does not taste it. Just... It's getting dark in my eyes. The crash when it falls. A sharp rise. Anxiety squeezes his chest as he tries to catch his breath, putting his fingers to his temple, that for some reason he is ill. Just a dream. Yes, it's just a fantasy. Makarov looks around, and even through the darkness he sees a calendar with the same date. The 4th of October. But he's not 15, he's already 45. Everything okay? "It seemed to me... It seemed, yes..."