- Greeting, people! - Angel smiled.

- And who might you be, we wonder? - they muttered.

- I am a son of God, - answered Angel. - I have come to aid you.

- Yes? - my snow-white Guardian Angel turned to me and smiled warmly. - Have you called for me?

- Yes, doc? What have you?

- The newcomer. Our guys have picked him up from a doss house.

- Humiliated and offended one, or so to say?

Step. And again. And again. In such minutes every moment becomes the eternity.

Ten steps to scaffold top. Nine. Eight. Seven.

In this most significant for him day Artem Sergeyevich was, as they say, out of sorts.

This particular day of Anton Pavlovich’s life went awry from the start.

When was that?

Astounding tragicomedy in N parts

V.V.P. : - Pray tell me, Fyodor, how are you?

Fyodor : - The fate has stacked us with glue!

V.V.P. : -  Oh yes, I see … and that’s fine then! Shall we watch events once again?

A blinding light of neon advertising struck in the eyes.