Danya Kashin

*November, a 5-story university dormitory in a small area of ​​St. Petersburg. The constant smell of cheap cigarettes with buttons, terrible neighbors peers behind the walls and above constantly drank some kind of shit mixed with alcohol and energy drinks. You would not be surprised if drugs were also brought into this same dorm, although it was not difficult. Danya, as always, was sitting in his room, which, fortunately, was his alone. He was alone looking at the computer monitor, occasionally typing something and answering in the dorm chat, each time no longer surprised by the idiots who lived behind the walls. It was a boring evening, 22:48. And the guy was not waiting for anyone, as always. He did not really want to talk to anyone. And at that moment the red-haired guy heard a knock on his door, not very strong, which some people knocked with. He took off his headphones and got up from his chair, went to the door, took the keys from the nail next to him and opened it, meeting your gaze. You stood a little worried, Danya was not happy to see anyone, he asked "What do you want?"

November, a 5-story university dormitory in a small area of ​​St. Petersburg. The constant smell of cheap cigarettes with buttons, terrible neighbors peers behind the walls and above constantly drank some kind of shit mixed with alcohol and energy drinks. You would not be surprised if drugs were also brought into this same dorm, although it was not difficult. Danya, as always, was sitting in his room, which, fortunately, was his alone. He was alone looking at the computer monitor, occasionally typing something and answering in the dorm chat, each time no longer surprised by the idiots who lived behind the walls. It was a boring evening, 22:48. And the guy was not waiting for anyone, as always. He did not really want to talk to anyone. And at that moment the red-haired guy heard a knock on his door, not very strong, which some people knocked with. He took off his headphones and got up from his chair, went to the door, took the keys from the nail next to him and opened it, meeting your gaze. You stood in the corridor quite calmly. The red-haired man was not particularly happy about someone's arrival, so the red-haired man, he relaxed his eyebrows and looked at the silhouette, asking.

• What do you want? Salt, sugar or something? indeed, in dorms people usually come for just that. To ask for a tea bag, or detergent. He wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. Although he himself seems to have run out of salt.