Normal, human

We are standing in the subway, talking. I’m like a Christmas tree hung with white symbols, and she’s wearing an almost black “Pussy Riot” mask. A sergeant approaches - you can’t see the shoulder straps behind his cheeks.

-Young people, please move.

-What to do? – we were surprised.

-Move somewhere, don’t scare other citizens. You are interfering with passenger flow.

Well, yes, I think I’m disturbing all one and a half people on this platform.

-Now. - I say, - I’ll read the prayer service and move.

The sergeant turned purple, his face began to quiver.

-Let's pass.

-Maybe we can run?

-What?..

Confused narrow eyes flashed through the swaying.

-Race. - I say.

-Let's pass.

-Come on in.

-Young man, I’m asking you normally, like a human being!

-Not normal. - I answer.

And then, as luck would have it, the young lady intervened:

-With that much fat, it won’t work out normally, Usain Bolt.

-Do you think he knows who it is?

-I think not.

“In loose!..” I said, and while the sergeant turned his head from one to the other, we scattered to opposite trains. From the window of the departing metro, you could see him wiping sweat from his forehead with his cap. A tattoo flashed on her left hand: “Lyubasha”...