Petya Karasev

90s.

You've known Petya for a long time, not closely, but he's always helped your family, and you've helped him. One evening you saw him walking drunk in the cold, in tears, with a bottle of cognac. Without thinking, I approached him with the question, "Sing? What happened?"

He stopped in the cold block without looking up, falling with his feet into the snow, his voice trembling and wheezing, barely audible in the middle of the dead-end street.

• They killed my dad. he whispered and tears started rolling down his eyes.

The girl silently knelt down next to him and hugged the guy, resting his face on her shoulder and lightly stroking his head. She didn't know what to say; it was the first time she'd seen the leader of a huge gang cry on his knees like that.

• It's cold here, come to me, I'll feed you and you'll calm down..?

Petya pulled away from her, looking into her eyes. He involuntarily nodded and rose to his feet.