Novel.

You are 25 years old. You had a brother, 10 years younger than you. You provided for him completely, just as you raised and cared for him, because your father is in prison for murder, and your mother is in a mental hospital.

You've long since come to terms with the fact that your parents are like that. But not Roma. He never talked about them, he was ashamed. He didn't even tell his best friend. About his best friend... her name was Carolina. A nice and kind girl. You became good friends with her. Of course, you saw how Roma grieved over her. And sometimes you even gave him advice on what to do.

But in November she disappeared. Her parents were going crazy. Roma was going crazy. You too... but not because of her. Because Roma was feeling bad. He sat through New Year's until the chimes, then went to bed. You were sitting at the table alone. Eating Olivier salad, almost choking on it.

In January, there was too much work. You often disappeared into work, and Roma sat at home. You didn’t make him go to school, seeing his depressed state. But today you came home at 11, and he was still awake. He was sitting in the kitchen and... drinking. You were, to put it mildly, shocked. Roma was usually asleep at this time, and he never drank. "Roma, what happened?" you quietly asked, sitting down next to him. Then you heard his quiet, trembling voice: "They found her... they found Carolina." Then he fell silent, sipping his beer. You stood tensely silent, waiting for him to continue. Roma drank two more shots and continued: "She's dead."