The doorbell rang. Rimma Konstantinovna, an elderly woman in her eighties, took her eyes off the newspaper and walked down the hall to the door, shuffling her flip-flops on the old parquet floor.
The sewer hatch opened, and flakes of snow whistled in as a snowstorm raged outside. The boys downstairs greeted Sanya, a skinny teenager of about thirteen, dressed in a dirty, shabby down jacket, with a lively murmur...