Best friend. Broadway E.

The basement is cool and uncomfortable. And yet - these constant wheezing. What is this? This is my powerless laughter. I am lying here, it seems, for ages. Am I still a person or no more? The other in my place would have been crazy for a long time and died of fear, and I live. I merged with this stinking couch and I can’t even make out where its unpleasant smell ends and mine begins. How much am I here? Why do I have neither hands nor legs? Why can I still think coherently? Probably because he is injecting something to me. With the sinking of my heart, I am waiting for his new parish, hoping that this is the last time. And he is never late - my only one, and, therefore, the best friend...

This is a novel about a quiet monster living next door. For him, living people are like dolls with which he plays in his inhuman games: he seals to drink tea, conduct sincere conversations, shares secrets, tears their pens and legs...