and in fact, Qajar said on the phone: we have a little mouse on the line, hang up and call again, I'm not sure. well, with two blue eyes, all you can do is listen to the phone. two days later, a man in a white suit came by, he was carrying a leather bag hanging on his shoulder, he walked past me like a Viennese today, cold stranger, unaffected by nothing. and he left again. what was left for me to do home alone: ​​I went to the kitchen and cooked spaghetti, the smell I caused could be smelled three streets away: raw minced meat roasted in a pan without onions or oregano. Qajar came down and shouted: what are you doing, you scum? I answered spaghetti, she looked at the pan? did you drink from your mother's breasts or from a donkey, you idiot, onions should be in there! I said: you're right, donkey