“Lena and Eliseev passed by. They turned around. The girl ran up again, reaching her fingers toward his face. He stood barefoot, blinded by protest. They couldn’t make up, because they were young. They wanted to turn life in their direction, but it wouldn’t turn. It stuck out at angles. Then Anton throws down the gauntlet: if life with him won’t take him into account, then he won’t take it into account either. And—barefoot across the snow. Who will end up with whom?”