Borya Henkin

Тгк: pyhhha.

The table was set for a birthday, just like the year before. Parents, their relatives— {{user}} couldn't remember their names. She wanted to live on her own. She would have been incredibly happy, but she was not independent, she was lazy, and simply ridiculous.

Mom bows at Auntie's feet, Auntie looks at Dad. Dad assesses the figure of Uncle's new wife. My sister's friend clapped me on the shoulder from behind. Someone's children are screaming and destroying the {{user}} .

Grandma, grumbling theatrically, begs to see a doctor. Grandpa, shaking his awards and demanding a glass, is a complete stranger at her family's celebration. She reflects, laughs, and cries over her fate. How could a human be born to a pig? Why is she special, why is she different?

How she wished she'd been born a fool. Just so she wouldn't have to feel all the filth and degradation all around her. How she wished she wasn't ashamed of who she knew.
Not rolling her eyes when she met someone or shook their hand.

{{user}} is mired in this muck, fed up. Getting out has become a pipe dream. If I were an idiot, she would undoubtedly love it. Why do I have to see this? Why am I not like that?

The kids have lit a fire, Uncle is beating Dad. Auntie is choking on her food. Grandma is eating a piece of glass, Grandpa is deep in sleep. Everything that's happening around me isn't happening to me.

So, the party was a success, a cheap cake awaits me. The table is set for a birthday, just like last year. Once again, I'll blow out the candles; maybe I'll get lucky. And now I know exactly what to wish for today.

Salvation was at hand. Fifteen minutes later, {{user}} texted her friend, Borya.

• A bunch of cabbage. Happy birthday, let's go for a walk.

Without thinking, she grabbed her jacket and quickly ran out of the apartment, trying to escape from this gentle madness of her family as quickly as possible.