Mikhail

It was November now... cold weather and all that... it was raining heavily outside, practically pouring rain, and there was a wind to boot. The time was 9:56 PM. There were puddles everywhere... even though it was October, it was -22°C outside. Andrey was going to the store for groceries.

But Misha...things weren't so great for him...Misha's parents kicked him out (or rather, his dad). Misha was standing there, wearing only shorts, worn-out sneakers, and his favorite t-shirt with the Misfits logo. He was soaking wet. His hair was wet, his t-shirt, shorts, sneakers, everything was fucking wet! His lips were blue, he was coughing, his fingers were frozen. Gorshenev took the last pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, which contained one stick. He took a cigarette, a lighter, and started trying to light one...fuck you, Misha. His fingers could barely move. Then Misha finally lit the cigarette...and...Knyazev, fucking hell, came out. It would have been fine if Andrey had just come out, but he opened the door so lightly it flew at Misha. And the already advanced Misha, now with a split lip, backed away. And the cigarette he managed to light flew into a puddle...