Distortion

 Tosha stared at the peeling leather of the door and sighed heavily. Everything that has happened to her lately is like a mousetrap with cheese. It's not a thrill to enter an inherited apartment with a load of misunderstandings, unfulfilled obligations, and in general... Although what obligations can there be between people who have never seen each other? Well, they sent a notification from the police: we inform you that Kuzma Kuzmich Rodionov was taken to the hospital with a heart attack. And who is he Better, this Kuzma Kuzmich, even for his father, even for his mother? My parents haven't been alive for six years, there's no one to ask. Maybe there was a mistake. But there was a call from the notary's office, and Tosha was hesitating at the door.

There was a strange feeling, as if someone was glued to the peephole on the other side. It's kind of disturbing... What if it's an old man who hasn't waited for anyone to come to his deathbed, waiting to claim his soul or his life? What kind of thoughts are these? I should have stayed in the village and not coveted the inheritance.

In general, you shouldn't have refused to accompany your aunt from the housing and communal services department. But she ran from one office to another for so long, so reluctantly shifting things from table to bag, from bag to table, that she reminded a naughty first-grader who delays the moment of showdown with his parents. And then the aunt grabbed the ringing mobile phone like a magic wand.

I had to say that I could do without her services. The aunt was delighted and handed Tosha the keys. In the cramped, multi-columned hallway, the girl stopped to get her luggage more comfortably. She heard a conversation:

— It's a pity. Just a girl.

— Maybe it will be okay...

Tosha still didn't understand who they were feeling sorry for, because the door closed and the words turned into an inarticulate babble.

Ouch! It was somewhere inside the locked apartment that the door slammed. Or was it just my imagination?

Very lucky — someone is coming up the stairs. Let's wait.

The stylishly dressed woman looked around at Tosha's things, smiled affably, but said nothing, and headed for the next flight of stairs. And Tosha decided.

— Hello. I came on a call from the notary office. This apartment is mine now. The housing and communal services gave me the keys. Could you help me out by coming in together? You never know what... — She asked.

The woman stopped, but her smile was gone.

At this time, a howl like a spring cat chant was heard in the depths of the apartment: "Wa-a-uh." Something crashed, and the howling stopped.

"Was it my imagination, or is there someone there?"  Tosha said.

— What makes you think that? The apartment has been empty for many years," the woman replied coldly, turned around and began to rise.

But Tosha saw her eyes widen in fright. She heard it too.

What should I do? My thoughts were interrupted by an urgent need: drinking coffee in the morning completed its cycle in the body. Tosha rattled the keys resolutely.

Oh, and the dust in the hallway! It's like poplar fluff, only gray. Tosha put her things on a rickety stool and a bedside table. She rushed to the bathroom, hastily unbuttoning her jeans. If only the plumbing was in working order! Fortunately, everything turned out to be fine. Rinsing her hands, Tosha turned her attention to the mirror. The surface, cloudy from dried plaque, looked like an eyesore. Well, it's okay, everything will be sparkling clean here soon.

There was a pounding on the front door. Tosha hurriedly headed to the hallway, glancing briefly into the room. So, what is this? The knocking resumed with such force that dust fell from the jambs. Okay, then we'll find out what kind of thing it is, otherwise someone can't wait, the door is about to rip off its hinges. Tosha opened the lock and staggered back.

"Help me!" For God's sake, help! My daughter, Sasha! She's not breathing!  A disheveled young woman shouted and burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm just checking in and I don't know if there's a phone here," Tosha muttered in confusion, came to her senses and rummaged in her bag in search of a mobile phone, trying to somehow calm the distraught neighbor. — I'm going to dial an emergency call.

But the woman forcefully grabbed her by the arms and pulled:

"Help me!" Well, please!

Tosha reluctantly followed her to the wide-open door to the apartment opposite.

"I beg you! My baby... At first she wheezed, turned blue all over... It's cold... And then the eyes rolled back. My dear child!  The woman howled and dragged Tosha across the landing and into the cluttered hallway.

There was a girl lying on a low sofa in the room. His head was thrown back, and his blueberry-colored mouth was open, as if in a scream. There are dark spots and dried scratches on the neck.

Tosha stopped dead in her tracks. It's not an ambulance that's needed here, but the police. Wow, my daughter stopped breathing. Someone contributed to this. Isn't that the mother? And she can be dangerous! Only now did Tosha realize that she didn't feel the woman's tenacious grip. Where did she go? Tosha looked around warily. The neighbor disappeared, leaving her alone next to the dead child. I'm in such a mess, Tatiana Ivanovna!

Tosha looked around the room, a small, lifeless body. The poor girl has been unable to help for a long time — ominous spots have "blossomed" on her thin little hands. I need to go back to my apartment and call the police. Tosha went into the hallway and froze again. On stools and a bedside table — in someone else's apartment! — there were her things. There are no others to be confused with them. Especially the bag full of cosmetics, and on top of it — her own mobile phone! So where is Tosha herself— at home, with a child killer, or in a nightmare?

His chest convulsed several times in an attempt to breathe, and it was as if a noose had been tightened around his neck. If the numbness doesn't go away, Tosha will fall to the dusty floor. And two corpses will be found here. The air suddenly rushed into her throat, and the girl leaned against the bedside table with relief. We need to get out of here.

Someone touched my back lightly. Tosha turned around.

There was a dead girl standing next to her.

Her blacklist curled pitifully on her bluish face, and her eyes with yellow whites oozed brown tears.

And then it was as if a curtain had been drawn in front of Tosha.

When she woke up, the hallway was filled with misty twilight.

The girl stood up. His arms and legs were shaking, and his head ached. It took Tosha forever to walk three meters to the door. Finally, she crossed the threshold. Get out of here! And yet she turned around. Empty hallway, dilapidated furniture. Things are missing. There was not a single trace on the floor, which was covered with lumpy dust.

She immediately turned on the light in her room. She did not touch the bags and suitcase, but hesitated a little before entering the room. What if?.. But there was no little dead woman. But the squat sofa and bulky antique furniture—the same as in the monstrous apartment next door—were in the same places. The difference was in a stuffed huge cat under a giant glass hood. That's what struck Tosha when she first heard a desperate knock on the door.

I wish I could get out of here, but where am I going at night? A strange city, no relatives, no acquaintances. And this apartment is really a mousetrap. Although if you put the incident down to rampant nerves? Just give them some free rein. You will be left without a home, you will wither away without a normal job and the opportunity to arrange a personal life in a village that is not on the map yet. In general, so, Tatiana Ivanovna: the morning of the evening is more complicated. Now the cleaning is at a furious pace, then sleep. And after thinking about it. And no nerves!

I couldn't sleep. Tosha spent half the night fidgeting on a new set of underwear, thoughtfully purchased at the station store. The illumination, arranged for calmness, prevented me from forgetting — aha, you can't sweep away nerves like dust. I had to turn off the lights first in the room, then in the hallway and in the kitchen. Paradoxically, the darkness cheered me up even more. Tosha got up and went to the window, from which she peeled the tulle fluffy from the nets during cleaning. Did she open the frames? A fresh wind blew the strands off her sweaty cheeks, blew the lightest silk of her nightgown off her shoulders.

Rather, to where the restless night rustles its robes in huge lilacs, where the anemic light of lanterns timidly clings to the asphalt, where someone is ready to give hot blood to the strong flexible body of a predator... Hurry up!

Damn it! She almost jumped from the fourth floor!

Tosha climbed down from the windowsill, calmed her trembling, straightened her shirt. In the kitchen, I washed the kettle again and put water on to boil for coffee. What's going on with her? As a child, they said, she had a lot of extravagance. But at the age of ten she outgrew her eccentricities. She was known as a sensible and calm girl. Slightly on his mind, but not without reason. The sudden death of his parents did not break him, but only hardened his character. And more: she knew in advance who wanted to hurt her and when. And I could always resist it. It was worth wishing evil in return, as the plan was realized. It's not always the way we'd like it to be, but still... Was she a psychic? And if she stays away from all the nonsense and gets closer to the point, then she has only two options.

First, the headache pills she had been taking for two weeks turned out to be useless, even harmful. Does it happen that drugs get mixed up or the shelf life expires? Hence the glitches. Secondly, her childhood quirks returned, which did not leave anything in her memory. Tosha only found out about them from relatives at her parents' funeral. They say she was a dreamer — she made up things that you wouldn't read in books. She also made everyone believe in nonsense. Was she hallucinating again? And the food for visions was provided by this truly strange house. Tomorrow, that is, today, we need to talk to the neighbors about whether a crazy mother killed her daughter here. And what was Kuzma Kuzmich like when he bequeathed his apartment to her.

Osha stood at the window all morning, looking out at the neighbors. Some went to their cars, some hurriedly headed to the bus stop. Mothers with children hurried to the kindergarten. And here's the woman she met on the stairs yesterday, walking her dog. Tosha immediately got dressed, grabbed the bag and went out. She glanced warily at the door opposite and literally ran down the stairs. On the street, she imitated the joy of meeting and greeted the woman.:

— Hello, I'm Tatiana. For friends and neighbors — Tosha. Let's get acquainted!

—Alyona," the woman muttered and tried to calm the angry dog.

The tiny dog wheezed and tore at the leash, kicking dead leaves with its hind paws.

"What's the matter with you, Narcissus?"  Alyona said in annoyance and picked up the pet in her arms. — Be quiet, otherwise Mikhailovna will get upset again that her head hurts from barking.

An ambulance arrived at the entrance at the end of the house, followed by the police.

"Good day," Alyona hurriedly threw at Toshin's address and almost ran home.

Tosha stubbornly followed her, openly imposing on her:

— Maybe we should get to know each other better? Would you like to have some coffee?

Alyona just shrugged her shoulder. But then an obese old woman floated out of the entrance to meet her and blocked her escape route. "Mikhailovna,— Tosha immediately thought for some reason. The old woman put her hands on her hips, and then said in a bass voice:

— Yes, keep your mouth shut! If you can't raise them, put them to sleep. Such a lying dog, I can't save you from barking!

Alyona silently squeezed between Mikhailovna and the door jamb.

"What's that?" "What is it?" the old woman asked, and cupped her sausage fingers over her eyes, looking at the Ambulance and the policeman.

"I don't know,— Tosha replied.

"Who knows?" — the old woman asked, apparently purely for rhetoric, and added: — Nina Mikhailovna. Are you from the fourth, a tenant or a possessive?

Tosha did not have time to answer, as the formidable grandmother made a strangled sound and backed away. Her cheeks, which looked like poorly stuffed pillows, were completely saggy and gray. Tosha followed Mikhailovna's fixed gaze.

An orderly and a young man carried a stretcher covered with a sheet out of the entrance.

— Holy saints, again...  Mikhailovna muttered and crossed herself.

Tosha felt the opportunity to profit from the information and cordially invited the old woman.:

— Nina Mikhailovna, come to my place. If the pressure allows, let's drink coffee. Or tea...

"Isn't there anything stronger?" — almost whispered the loud Mikhailovna.

"I'll find it," Tosha smiled and slightly pushed the clumsy grandmother towards the stairs.

At the table, noisily sipping tea with lemon liqueur, which Tosha's second cousin had given her to celebrate the housewarming party, Mikhailovna began to talk. It turned out that people were dying in their house in a terrible and inexplicable way. Every seven years.

—I'll tell you, it's kabachupra,— Grandma said significantly and quietly, probably so that this one wouldn't hear.

 Tosha was surprised.

—Kabachupra,— whispered Mikhailovna. "Grab your neck with your teeth, that's all."..

Tosha realized who the grandmother was talking about and smiled. And then she asked a question that was supposed to shed light on what had happened to her.:

— Nina Mikhailovna, wasn't a child killed in our building? A little girl.

—That's what Aunt Alyona has,— Grandma replied, smacking her lips and pointing at the ceiling. "Since the fifth." Not right above you, but next to you. She's been crazy ever since. She's always running around with her boyfriend, kissing his nose. Well, the child is gone, but you need to love someone.

"At Alena's?"  Tosha was amazed. — Did the baby die in the apartment opposite mine?

"No,— Mikhailovna said firmly. — Your floor is exactly like an uninhabited one. Someone appears, moves out unnoticed... A caravanserai, in a word. I've been living in the house for about thirty years, I don't remember a single tenant.

— And you don't even remember my relative, Kuzma Kuzmich Rodionov? He bequeathed this apartment to me," Alyona said, puzzled.

"There was no Kuzma Kuzmich here,— Mikhailovna got angry. — By the way, I've been the eldest since I moved in. I used to collect money for all kinds of needs, so I know everything about everyone.

Despite the nightmares she had experienced, it was only now, in the peaceful moments of tea drinking, that Tosha realized that the mousetrap had snapped shut. The whole world dimmed and fell silent. The old woman's lips moved soundlessly, and a fat autumn fly darted soundlessly around the kitchen...

—Are you getting sleepy from your drink?"  Mikhailovna's bass voice suddenly popped into her ears.

—I think so,— Tosha said faintly.

—Well, then I'll go,— Grandma said. — The police officers will be doing a door-to-door inspection now. You get some rest. Shall I take a look at the room? I've never been there in all these years.

Tosha nodded, got up, leaning heavily on the table, and followed Mikhailovna.

Grandma turned her head and grunted disapprovingly. She walked over to the empty glass case and clicked on it with a yellow convex fingernail:

"What's that?" Some kind of jar.

"It's the dome that was used to cover the scarecrow," Tosha replied, barely moving her lips.

"Where is it?"  Mikhailovna asked, and made fun of it.

The girl just sighed. It really escaped. It's just unclear when. In the evening, she wiped the glass part of the case, looked at the master's skillful work. And then I stopped paying attention to the scarecrow. And so...

—Well, I'll go," Grandma said, clicked on the glass again and added. "It's a big jar. I guess the whole kabachupra will fit.

Having escorted Mikhailovna out, Tosha dipped the rest of the brandy into a mug and drank it. No, you can't do that, or you'll go crazy. The loss of the sawdust—stuffed hide will again be attributed to glitches - well, she imagined it. Just like yesterday's guest with the dead daughter. Alyona, whose child really died, does not live opposite at all. The strong liquor made my head spin, and my stiffness disappeared. What if you pay a visit to the ill-fated apartment? Oh, she wasn't! Tosha grabbed her keys and resolutely went out onto the landing. She rang the bell and knocked. She pushed the door open slightly. She gave way. Tosha took a deep breath and entered.

Kuzma Kuzmich stood in the middle of the room and, turning slowly, examined every corner of the furniture, every fold of the curtains, every shadow. The creature will be here soon—he can feel it. The heavy crowbar, once taken from the janitor's closet, trembled in his hand. Star Kuzmich — over a hundred, a dozen more ran up. Three wars are behind us, and you will have to look into the eyes of your death right now. Wounded five times at the front, he knew he would survive. And when his truck and a half went under the ice, he was sure that he would get out. Two heart attacks didn't come down. And so.

Claws scratched at the front door.

Kuzmich put his hand to his chest — his heart was fluttering badly. No, he couldn't stand it. We need to delay the last battle somehow. It doesn't make sense, of course. But he's not ready.

There was a sound in the hallway, as if something soft had fallen from a height.

Kuzmich, gathering all his strength, rushed and threw a crowbar into the corridor.

— Wow!  The darkness howled.

Well, now the creature will hide for a while. There were so many of them, these breaks in the exhausting hunt. The price of each is someone's life. More than once I had the idea to expose my throat to a hot fanged mouth. Either a hinge or an open window. But what happens after that, when the last hunter dies? He didn't become one by choice. But I'm not sure about the creature. Was it through his complicity that this reptile came into the world?

It all started right after the war, when he, a veteran, was given a separate apartment. There were so many residents in the neighboring communal apartment that you couldn't even remember their faces. He immediately became friends with the family of Igor Rusakov, the engineer of their fleet, who, with his wife and daughter Tanya, huddled in eight squares. Therefore, the doors of Kuzmich's odnushka were always open for a friend and a three-year-old fidget. The evenings when he and Igor listened to a captured radio, and Tanya was building something out of cubes on a rug, replaced family life, which was cut short by the explosions of the forty-first. Sometimes Igor, hearing the noise and screams from behind the adjacent wall, rubbed his face with his hands and said, "Hell." Kuzmich objected sternly: "You haven't seen hell. That's when it's a hundred times more, and they're silent... And they don't move... That's when hell begins." "Your truth," his young friend replied.

One day Tanya found a red-haired kitten freezing on the street. She burst into tears so much that Lena, Igor's wife, allowed her to bring the baby home. Igor was indignant for a long time, argued, tried to sell the animal to Kuzmich, but could not resist his daughter's happy, somehow enlightened face as she played with the foundling. And then the slightly grown-up cat got sick. Igor came alone that evening.

— Foam is coming out of the mouth, the belly is rattling. I wanted to take it away, Tanya, in a scream," he said.

Kuzmich understood what was the matter.

"It's rat poison. I should have been firm right away. And now there's nothing you can do," he explained.

In the morning, I saw through the window how Igor walked with a bundle in the newspaper behind the boiler room, which was then located right in front of their house.

However, after work, a friend showed up with Tanya, in whose arms a red cat was floundering.

"I don't understand anything,— Igor whispered to him. — I pushed her under some boards. I come home, and Lena tells me that Tanya missed the cat, cried, and then screamed that Toshka was walking in the yard! They went to get Toshka.

— Maybe it's another one?  Kuzmich didn't believe me.

—No,— Igor replied, rubbing his face as if he wanted to wake up from an unpleasant dream.

Kuzmich took a cloer look: a ribbon with a bow made of a piece of "gold" was tied around the kitten's neck. This wrapper was used for sweets received on special rations for front-line soldiers.

All evening they watched the games that Tanya had arranged.

Kuzmich secretly talked to some of the neighbors, and the communal war against the kitten temporarily subsided. For six months, no more.

At four o'clock in the morning, there was a quiet, insistent knock on the door. Kuzmich was alarmed for some reason and ran to open the door without putting on his slippers. Igor literally stumbled through the door. In his hands is a rolled—up towel with purple spots.

—Kuzmich, you're like a father to me,— Igor said dully. —Here we go again! Uncle Lyosha, with a crutch. Drunk as a fiddle, as always. Kuzmich, help me, I won't be able to. I'm afraid, you know? What if he comes back again?

"Come into the kitchen," Kuzmich said, and began to dress. I thought for a while and grabbed a sapper shovel. It should be in the ground, as it should be.

He buried the Toy under a bush. For a long time I could not get rid of the feeling of crushed bones that rolled under the skin, which had lost all its red luxury. Oh, and Tanya had infected him with her tenderness for the little animal. Then I drank two hundred grams with a friend. Igor suddenly got carried away, and Kuzmich dragged him home to Lena in his arms. Quietly closing the door of the Rusakovs' room behind him, Kuzmich walked down the long corridor to the niche where Uncle Lyosha was snoring, letting green snot run down his mustache. I didn't lose my leg at the front — I was crushed by a drunkenly overturned tractor before the war. You bastard, you couldn't get to your room. Kuzmich shook him by the shirt front and asked in a whisper choked with rage:

"You bastard, don't you have anyone else to fight?" Why did you kill the cat?

Uncle Lyosha woke up and, in a completely sober voice, although it smelled of dead meat all over the corridor, said:

— Damn it, not a cat! Heck! She came to me every night. She drank my blood! Don't you believe it? Here!..

The disabled man wanted to undo the mismatched buttons on his shirt, but his fingers wouldn't obey. Then he yanked at the collar so that the buttons rattled like peas on the floor.

There were purple wounds on his neck and collarbones. There were dried and fresh scratches all over his chest.

— He will appear... from the dark... He'll claw and bite... And licking the blood...  Uncle Lyosha said, twisting his lips and shaking with tears.

Kuzmich even choked with indignation, shouting louder than he should have:

"Drunk as hell!" You're a crazy drunk! The cat is lapping up blood, and you're lying there watching, right?

There was a draft. Kuzmich wanted to say that Uncle Lyosha would have to answer for Tanechka's grief, but out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the front door had opened a crack. I looked and felt the floor give way under my feet.

Toshka slowly entered the hallway. It was exactly her, a red—haired hide covered in blood and earth.

The cat sat down and began to lick itself, looking at Kuzmich and Uncle Lyosha, who was wheezing. Kuzmich carefully walked around Toshka and rushed out. In the evening of that day, he learned that the disabled man had been found dead in the hallway. I got drunk.

Igor did not appear at his friend's place anymore. And when they met at the car park, he announced that he was leaving the family — the quiet and meek Lena turned into a fury when she heard the ultimatum: either him or the cat. Kuzmich just spread his hands. And that was the first mistake.

He committed the second one when he failed to connect a series of strange deaths in a communal apartment with a cat. A scandalous young woman, a mother of two children, committed suicide when the last of her babies suffocated in her sleep. She slashed at her throat with a kitchen knife. The unfortunate woman's face and hands were covered with scratches. One of the loud old women suddenly went crazy and scalded herself with water from a tank in which the laundry was boiling. But Toshka turned out to be persistent. No one has managed to lime it. The apartment began to be considered disastrous, a bad reputation, like an unpleasant smell, crept through the city. Kuzmich, as best he could, took care of and protected the family of a long-retired engineer.

Then there was the third mistake, the most terrible. Tanya has grown into a fifteen-year-old beauty. But in terms of behavior, she remained the same little girl with a tender attachment to her cat. Lena barely persuaded her daughter to go to a summer camp. A few days later, Toshka disappeared, and death walked out of the apartment. Three residents of the building died one after the other.

Kuzmich and Lena went to Tanya's house and, as expected, found the cat at the owner's. They brought the enraged animal home. Kuzmich went on a business trip, and when he returned, he learned about the tragedy that had just happened: Lena, along with the cat, rushed under a dump truck. Igor came to the funeral and insisted that his daughter not be informed about her mother's death until the end of the camp season. Kuzmich felt that Tanya could not survive two losses at once and ordered a scarecrow. He ruthlessly suppressed speculation and superstition, and reasoned that all the anger that had befallen the cat had turned against the people themselves. The wild mores of the communal apartment — and not only in relation to the animal — have caused something that is repugnant to life itself. But he would not leave Tanya, he would help her finish her education in another city where Igor's relatives lived, and he would give her an apartment. To her surprise, she did not grieve for long, but left a stuffed animal of her pet at parting. She studied, got married, had a son, and became a happy grandmother. And she quietly left this world, as happened to all of Kuzmich's acquaintances. But he remained the guardian.

Then I had to hunt. It sucks, I must say, he was good at it — age. Or fate. Or something else.

Tosha looked around and sighed heavily. It's just like last time. Maybe this apartment is some kind of mirror? Cloudy from dried plaque. In which there is distortion instead of reflection?

She felt the girl immediately.

And sure enough, the deceased went out into the corridor, beckoned with her hand with her nails already completely black.

For some reason, Tosha wasn't scared at all. She's probably asleep.

Just like when she was a child, when she saw strangers in oblivion. And the death rattles in my ears. And then their blood on their lips and palms.

Tosha slowly moved into the room along the endless corridor, the walls and ceiling of which were unsteady from the shifting haze.

My feet sank into an invisible substance, and voices rustled in my head. A female figure blocked the way. It appeared as if out of nowhere. She shook her blood-soaked, half-scalped head, spread her hands with the nails torn off on her fingers, as if not letting them go any further.

But the girl was drawn forward. She knew she couldn't stop. And she stepped forward.

The woman, if you could call this creature that, threw back her head, causing a flap of skin with matted hair to slide down her back, let out a scream and suddenly grabbed Tosha.

The bones of the mutilated dead woman's fingers slipped out of the rotten flesh and bit painfully into her forearms. Bared teeth in rags of decomposed gums approached Tosha's face. An almost black, wrinkled tongue wriggled, and the words rang out:

"Die, you bastard!" I won't give you Tanya!

At first, Tosha felt that she was falling somewhere with the creature. And then everything started spinning, Tosha felt the blows, the crunch of someone's, or maybe her bones, and a wild heaviness.

And darkness fell.

Tosha came to her senses and realized that she was free. No one can stop her anymore. There's not much left. She stumbled over a thick piece of metal, which immediately turned to dust. She looked back and grimaced: corpses were piled up in the haze-cleared space. Nothing, it's all over. Tosha entered the bright room.

She's in her room. Everything is washed and tidy. Except there was an unfamiliar chair by the window. It's disgusting. It's obnoxious. Empty, but somehow dangerous. Tosha, stepping carefully, came closer.

It was as if some kind of veil had covered the worn plaid upholstery. And then, like in the movies, the sleeping man gradually began to appear. The old man. Wasn't he the one who had once lived here before her? I've been waiting. He wanted to take away Toshin's sanity or his life. He set traps. Lured by inheritance and...

— Tanya? — the old man woke up and stared at Tosha incredulously. "Darling, how did you get here?" Wait a minute... but you... Yes, it seems that my time has come. Thanks to the Creator, He sent me consolation at the last moment. Come and hug Kuzmich... How I missed you!

Tosha wanted to say that even though she was named after her grandmother, she had never been here before. And anyway, it's better to call her Tosha, Tosha. That's what she decided on her own. And if this is her apartment now, then let the old man get lost, or else...

— Baby, I remember how you used to play here. I did my homework. And I... I... watched and imagined that you were my granddaughter," the old man said in a trembling voice, raising his shaking hand to his eyes. — How many years have passed... And I'm still alone...

Toshin's irritation reached its limit. It seemed that even the air was pierced by electrical discharges. But a hiss came out of his mouth. Out of anger, it must be. The old man bulged his colorless eyes and fumbled with his hand near the chair. He probably wanted to reach the glass hemisphere that was standing at a distance. Then he went limp and said:

"Is that so?" Was it you the whole time? Well, that's understandable... When they spit into the purest soul, they will poison it with hatred. What can germinate? What will a poisoned, crushed, murdered purity turn into? But me, me for what? Why innocent children? Why is God's love not enough for everyone?

The old man tried once more to reach the huge glass dome, but could not. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and muttered:

"Retribution is inevitable. Guilty. I didn't know that people needed to be protected from themselves. Where can I find such a dome to lock up all evil?

Tosha grinned. I can't lock it! The old fool made a mistake. I caught a shadow, but I missed it. But if it had happened otherwise, would you have raised your hand against your beloved Tanya? A whirlwind swirled around Toshi. The throat let out a powerful howl. And she rushed to the chair.