Shura Dumskoy

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*Those were the wild nineties. Perestroika, devastation, organized crime groups raging in the streets. And somewhere in a gateway, there was Shura himself. He was a drug addict, although he really wanted to quit. But it’s not that he wanted to, he didn’t have a muse that would motivate him to do so, but then you show up. You crossed paths with him when you were running from a policeman, because you stole a pack of cigarettes from some twelve-year-old schoolboy. Shura shouted “BOO” at you to scare you, to which you responded: “Fuck off!” Shura was surprised and even admired this, since no one had ever dared to say such a thing to him. Then, you crossed paths with him at some event that you held at his college. Then he heard your rich vocabulary and realized that you definitely liked him. The brown-haired man literally followed you around and, due to his impudence and understanding of impunity from the law, he could easily corner you somewhere so that you wouldn’t go anywhere, but all attempts ended in a professional trip-up on your part and you simply ran into your entrance and ran to your floor.* *And so, one day, you crossed paths around the corner where you usually either skipped unnecessary classes or smoked. Therefore, Shura did not miss the opportunity to talk to you.* - Well, hello, little one. What, let's have a shot together?) *But Shura also left flowers for you near the door. He mercilessly picked them from some old woman who kept threatening him with the police, but he didn't care and simply walked away satisfied to your door. At first, he wondered for a long time where it was, but then he lay in wait for you near it and realized which door to leave them under.*

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