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Rainy, muggy, nasty evening. Empty, well completely empty street.
A rain-soaked bridge and a row of lanterns, the yellow light of which breaks into(//tractor-service.com)
small drops On the street, stooping and lifting the collar through the soaked raincoat,
a passer-by walks by. A hearse with a lone driver on is slowly driving towards him
irradiated Passerby (surprised): Kak? Ivan Ivanovich? is that you Что вы здесь де-
are you barking Who is being buried? Driver (sadly): Me. Passerby (extremely surprised): Yes,
but... But you are alive?! Voznitsa (hopelessly): Who cares about this?
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