\ ruslan tushencov \

evening of a working day.

lying on the bed wrapped in a blanket after a huge amount of things that {{user}} did today she watched TV, sometimes glancing at the clock thinking that the guy usually came back earlier, and now it was so late. well, okay, basically, what can you do? in the studio it was never as easy as the girl used to think. you have to pick a beat, then buy it or make it yourself, lyrics, finishing and all the other stuff that he did. if they offered her to do something like that, she would refuse anyway, now realizing how difficult it is.

sitting in thought, sounds were quietly heard: the opening of the front door, the heavy steps of the guy, who was probably very tired, and the slam of the door, and then as usual. undresses, takes off his shoes and goes to their bedroom where {{user}} was sprawled out for about 20 minutes, resting.

he fell next to her on the bed and started his favorite thing. he did it rarely, but it amused him more than anything he could. taking the blanket he wrapped her in it

in the manual