Oleg (with warmth, barely restraining dignity and honor, to the viewer). Loser… The wife is right. Luck has never been my middle name. I have not achieved any outstanding heights in my life. I didn't get a good education, I didn't make any discoveries. I have not created something great, for so many years of working at the factory, I have not even climbed the career ladder one step. And it is quite obvious that I will not rise any more. I work and work. I am an ordinary replaceable cog of a huge social system. I am worn out – I will simply be replaced and forgotten. Therefore… Arguing with my wife is difficult. Yes… I'm a loser, that's right. But how do I differ, in essence, from most people? We all somehow work somewhere, we try to provide for our families. And those who strive for this – somehow manage to do it. I have a beautiful wife… was. Son, what kind of guy, huh? Well… You saw. A very good boy. I tried not to spoil him too much, but not to pinch him too much. We go hiking and fishing with him. For mushrooms and berries. He knows a lot of things. At least make a fire, at least dig a dugout. The guy will not be lost, I am calm for him. And here is Taisiya… She somehow stayed at home for the most part, but she was always disappearing with her friends…, and with friends of Lee… But I have never reproached her for this. I provide, she keeps the family hearth. But… something is our family hearth somehow… not very well preserved. Things happen. Life is rarely smooth and predictable. I tried to do everything for the family, but… I didn't try hard enough to know.

Oleg leaves in silent reverie, lifting his legs heavily…

ZTM.

The same house. Room. There is no one. Several kitchen attributes have been added to the table. The lid of the pan is on the table, the pan is open. A faceted glass filled to half with a transparent liquid.

Demyan enters the room. Self-confident, a look filled with strength and a certain degree of indifference. Dressed decently. He enters, looks around the room, is a little surprised, knocks on the door, even though he is already inside.

Demyan (loudly, calmly). Eh! The owners! Why isn't the door locked? Is anyone alive?

A sleepy Oleg enters the room. Tousled hair, T-shirt, family underpants, slightly hunched still sleepy gait.

Demyan sees Oleg.

Demyan (to Oleg, cheerfully). Hello, old man. Why are you so rumpled? Why isn't the door locked? Where is your zhinka? To the neighbor, did she come out?

Oleg approaches Demyan, shakes his hand, he shakes back.

Oleg (in a drooping voice). Hello, Demyan. Well no… Not to the neighbor.

Demyan (to Oleg, cheerfully, with a hitch and humor). What? To the neighbor?

Oleg (in a drooping voice). … in a way.

Demyan's face changes, his joking disappears.

Demyan (to Oleg, seriously). What do you mean? I didn't understand.

Oleg (in a drooping voice). Taisiya left me. And she took her son. She left yesterday.

Demyan is in shock, trying to comprehend and understand how to behave.

Oleg exhales heavily, rubs his face awake, tries to smooth his hair on his head, goes to the sofa, finds his pants there, pulls them on, sits down, invites a friend with a gesture.

Oleg (with a slightly uplifted voice). Come on in, buddy, what are you standing for?

Demyan slowly approaches the table, looks into the pot.

Oleg, looking at his friend, explains.

Oleg (with a slightly uplifted voice). Yes, I boiled potatoes yesterday, but I couldn't eat something. It doesn't go down my throat.

Demyan shakes his head understandingly, looks at his friend, tragically takes a half-empty glass in his hand, exhales sharply and with a bold movement, with all male solidarity, in order to share the grief, drinks the contents of the glass. But immediately the shower blows out what he drank, spits out.

Demyan (indignantly, with incomprehension). What is this?

Oleg (calmly, but lost). Water…

Demyan (indignantly, with incomprehension). Water? What the hell? Your wife left you, and you drink water?

Oleg (calmly, but lost). Vodka doesn't go down your throat either. I've been thinking about her, but even the smell itself is disgusting. So… I drank some water, didn't eat anything, and went to bed last night.

Demyan puts the glass on the table, takes the situation into his own hands.

Demyan (busily). So! Clear.

Demyan takes off his outerwear – a jacket. He throws her on the sofa, next to Oleg. He rubs his hands, goes to the kitchen.

Oleg is sitting helplessly on the sofa, just watching his friend with his eyes.

Demyan brings a plate with sausage slicing from the kitchen. Cheese brings, cuts right here on the table. He brings two small glasses and cognac.

He pours a little bit, raises his glass, hands the second one to a friend.

Oleg doubts, he doesn't really want to.

Demyan (insistently). Come on, come on! I'm not going to get you drunk, but for the expansion of the joints, twenty drops are needed now.

Demyan still hands a glass to Oleg.

Demyan (insistently). Without clinking glasses. Come on!

Demyan quickly drains the glass. Oleg repeats. Proceed to the snack.

Demyan (chewing sausage, talking at this time). I didn't find any bread there. Is it over, or is it still lying somewhere?

Oleg (calmly, but lost). No… that's not the point. Taisiya tried very hard to follow the figure. And bread makes you fat, so we can say that there is no bread in our house. So only, sometimes yeast-free.