Hello, dad, I'm your son! Mishina A.

- The stole, ”the uninvited guest smiles, folding his hands on his chest. A plush hare of a poisonous green color is clamped.

-Are you the fruit of my sick imagination?

So, you need points urgently. Everything is blurring. I turn around to the chest of drawers, there should be spare ones.

- No, I am your fruit with my mother, ”the boy says.

I hang.

- What? - Finally, I pull the glasses on my nose and now I see the kid quite clearly.

real, it means.

- then, - busily declares. - Hello, dad, I am your son.