The doorbell rang. Rimma Konstantinovna, an elderly woman in her eighties, took her eyes off the newspaper and walked down the hall to the door, shuffling her flip-flops on the old parquet floor.
There is a boy named Vlad in our yard: the kids call him "Schizo." He is indeed a little strange: always disheveled, wearing dusty pants with patches, he seems to be developmentally delayed...
The sewer hatch opened, and flakes of snow whistled in as a snowstorm raged outside. The boys downstairs greeted Sanya, a skinny teenager of about thirteen, dressed in a dirty, shabby down jacket, with a lively murmur...