Sasha put me out of my thoughts with her bright voice.

– Don't lie here for too long, you'll catch a cold! – I didn't notice she was long on her legs and finished her bun and I still lied on the grass with my case, crookedly. – Let's get warm at my place? I live near here.

– Well, let's continue what we started.

She laughed.

Sasha lived on the second floor.

What a wonderful place. There were countless paintings and little sculptures, everything looked expensive, even though the walls put a lot of pressure. On the hangers, there was a proud fur coat and a tidy autumn coat. Underneath the closet I saw a bunch of squeaky clean shoes. One of the shelves contained a case, a bit bigger than mine.

– Wash your hands! Would you like me to heat you up some soup? – She yelled from the kitchen.

– Thank you Sasha, I haven't finished my bun yet! – I took my coat off in the hallway.

– You can leave your coat next to dad's. Leave your case at the door.

I took a hanger and put my trash next to expensive fabric. This made me smirk.

– Quick, come here! I want to let you listen to something.

I went to the small kitchen and saw something special. A recording player with a box full of records.

– Sasha, where did you get that from?

– It's my parents'. – She looked through the records and got one. – They got it from my grandpa. Do you know a romance, "Oh I still remember"?

– That's the first time I hear that name.

The needle scratched the record. Something clicked inside me; I remembered the time when I sat next to my mom on the couch and watched her crochet napkins.

A sad female voice sang:

Oh I still remember

Your hazelnut eyes,

The mem'ry you left right beside me.

Oh how I regret

That I couldn't disguise

The flame that's still burning inside.

They say it's a sin

To decide your own fate

And run after hopes that are hopeless.

I couldn't predict

That it's true in my dreams

And only in them you will be mine.

My sight was deceived by

The heavenly light.

It seems you were born with that blessing.

I will not forget

All the words you won't shed.

And happiness, a mystery.

We had our last brief seconds to listen to it until the end and the door opened. I heard the sound of a shoe slam my case.

– Sasha, goddammit, who have you brought?

I rushed to stand up from the stool but then I decided that it'll be for the best if I sit down again. Sasha hurried to put the record away and ran towards the one who came in.

– Dad, this is my friend. We study together.

– I told you not to touch my records. When will you learn to leave them alone? Okay, I'll take a look at your friend now.

A man entered the kitchen, tall, with barely noticeable grey and messy facial hair. He left his second coat in the hallway and now he wore a suit vest upon his shirt. It seemed he ironed his pants several times. Tobacco resonated from his clothes.

– Is that your friend? – He pointed right at me. – I thought he'd be your age. – Now he looked me in the eyes. – What mad men study at school?

– Hello. I'm Alexander.

He shaked my hand without any visible desire.

– Sergei Mitrophanovich. Violist.

– Nice to meet you.

Sergei Mitrophanovich's lip twitched.

We didn't have time to finish the conversation; someone rang at the door. That someone was very dedicated and wanted to get to us bad.

Sergei Mitrophanovich unlocked the door. The creature entered the hallway, and it wasn't less elegant.

A rich short fur coat, pearls in ears and on neck, vivid makeup. Pale ginger hair in a bun. An evening dress can be seen from underneath the furry ones who died and left their heritage.