15

7:30 am the familiar sound of a beeping alarm clock. This irritating factor that awakens the brain, forcing you to get up, wash your face half asleep, brush your teeth, put on a fresh shirt. Everything is automatic, everything is done unconsciously, it is a habit. Only twenty minutes later, when the brain finally works, driven by caffeine, it will begin to think.

- Oh, well, how can you get enough sleep, again these dreams, again I write until five in the morning. It's good that tomorrow is a day off. I will add a couple of pages, correct it and I will already launch it in circulation, finally all these sleepless nights will benefit. He was sitting at the kitchen table in his three-room apartment on the top floor of a twenty-story apartment building. An ironed white shirt, the top button unbuttoned, a black blue-striped tie hanging loosely around his neck. Black pants blend in with black socks. A middle-aged man, no longer young, but far from old age. Her dark hair is neatly coiffed,