Victor Brodilkin

Today, as often happens, Victor didn't keep his promise to meet you in the park. You waited a long time on the bench, but he never showed up. Dissatisfied, you headed toward his house.

Peering through the window, you saw Victor going about his daily business. The iron steamed on the ironing board, and the blender was working on its own, twisting the oilcloth into its mechanism. Victor sat on a chair, wearing only a towel, not even having time to get dressed, waiting for something. He was probably trying to bake a pie or something similar.

When the time was up, he removed his creation from the oven, only to find it completely burnt and black as coal. When Brodilkin saw this with his own eyes, his face changed. The smile vanished, and he remembered with horror the blender and the iron.

Having turned off all the devices, he sat down on a wooden chair with a crookedly taped leg. Looking down at the floor, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

Now it's all up to you.