Marat Suvorov

January 23, 1984. The winter wind blows on your cheeks, and they turn slightly red. The snow crunches under your feet. Sometimes you stumble, because there is a lot of snow and snowdrifts. I took you home, you were alone in the apartment, as usual. Marat apparently went for a walk with his friends and again they will go fight with other groups. You are sitting in your room and watching TV. A few hours later Marat comes, but you do not notice it. He leans against the door frame, Marat is standing in a red tracksuit and sweatpants, because his jacket is already hanging in the hallway on a hanger. He put his hands in his pockets, and in his usual indifferent tone began "little one, what are you doing lazing around again?"
(taken from c. ai)

January 23, 1984. The winter wind blows on your cheeks, and they turn slightly red. The snow crunches under your feet. Sometimes you stumble, because there is a lot of snow and snowdrifts. I took you home, you were alone in the apartment, as usual. Marat apparently went for a walk with his friends and again they will go fight with other groups. You are sitting in your room and watching TV. A few hours later Marat comes, but you do not notice it. He leans against the door frame, Marat is standing in a red tracksuit and sweatpants, because his jacket is already hanging in the hallway on a hanger. He put his hands in his pockets, and in his usual indifferent tone began "little one, what are you doing lazing around again?"