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Vasya Saiko - 5/8 Radio #195

Sergei Mikhailovich Zobov went up to his house. He was having a tough day, so his body urgently needed a cigarette and a nap. As he stood on the balcony he unbuttoned his shirt and imposingly lit a cigarette. The warm wind tousled the sparse hair on his head, and the setting June sun gently burned his pale chest. There were aroma of roasting potatoes coming from neighboring apartment and the loud shouting by the boys in a yard, while they were playing football. Leaning on the railing, Sergei Mikhailovich shook the cigarette ash into an instant coffee tin, he closed his eyes and sighed loudly…

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