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Katerina, stop propping up as if you are worse than you actually are.
Katka pursed her lips and fell silent.
“Still, I’m a bitch” – such a simple thought came to my mind when I looked out the window at the Katerina leaving for the metro.
After all, I have Zhenya, and Katka has always been unlucky if you look into it.
After all, I have her Zhenya, although he is a good man, absolutely not needed.
An, no! Here I sat, drank my coffee, smoked my Vogue with menthol, and in my head, no, no, yes, and a jealous thought flashes.
Still, women – bitches.
Even as cute as me.
And all the men – bastards.
And fuckers.
I tried to raise my head above the pillow.
From the temples to the middle of the forehead, a sharp pain immediately darted, lingered on the bridge of her nose and clasped her head with an iron hoop.
I remember, I do not remember here.
I remember that Zhenya and I, a friend of my girlfriend Katya, drank Sangri wine, I remember they took a taxi, I remember Zhenka helped me take off my shoes.
And then – I do not remember.
In the kitchen, something hiss and, judging by the sounds, was splashing fat on my freshly washed stove.
On the lame table, which Katka and I preferred to call a magazine, there was a cup of coffee.
It was probably that notorious coffee in bed that everyone talks about so much.

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In the doorway, Zhenya appeared in my Zhenya’s home shorts.
I wonder how he could climb into them? Shorts stretched to squeak and embossed depicted the complex of men’s virtues of his guest.
– Do you eat scrambled eggs with cheese in the morning? – Zhenya asked in a businesslike way, from which I concluded that he was climbing in my refrigerator.
– What are you doing there at all? Making breakfast.
Your coffee is cold, you can make sure of it with your finger.
What the hell at all ?! He got up before me, clambered over the whole fridge, made coffee like a lover hero and now still crap on my stove.
I think too much about myself.
– I do not like coffee in the morning, I have heartburn afterwards.
The coffee smelled all over the house, I licked myself around the cup, but withstood the filthy physiognomy and proudly went to the bathroom.
But why do you have to endure men in the morning.
In the evening, they are so cute and pretty, and in the morning, they just stop you from doing your own business.
Damn alcohol.
If the Russian people drank less often, then the birth rate would be much lower.
I am sure that nine-tenths of all children are children of holidays and parties.
I opened the tap, in the face I was hit by a net of water from the shower bowel.
Moreover, the water is cold.
From surprise, I almost fell down on the toilet, the lid of which, for some reason, was now raised, along with the seat, as if people were standing and pissing here.
During my brief, more or less decently completed flight, I managed to utter a long phrase, built with the help of a narrow layer of vocabulary, called foul language in linguistics.
After that, without wasting time on dressing a robe, I ran into the room and performed an action that I had never done before: I just drove the person out of the apartment.
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Zhenya, he silently, very quickly assembled and left. Missadictive live sex shows ps.

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