26

Stone guest, shake your hand

You see, the palms, although torn,

They hold a brush, its marble

It seems hot, but it would be risky

Believe him if told to me:

Do not shake this hand even in the most beautiful dream.

(Here and below, the author of the poem: Evgeny Fedorov, Tequilajazzz )

The end of the iteration was approaching, and with it the resource of cleaning blocks was coming to an end. With each breath she felt how close he was to exhaustion. Traitor circles swam before his eyes, his fingertips went numb, his right leg tingled, large drops of sweat trickled down his collar.

The latter was especially disgusting - the cassette for water recirculators was rotten yesterday, and since then sand has been poured in the mouth. If someone asked Autumn now what is more important to her, a sip of water or a breath of fresh air, she would probably think hard about what to answer.

However, her brain by that moment, in its cognitive capabilities, was more like a half-finished scraps - the only
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