About the book: year / “Good morning,” he says, not at all embarrassed by the fact that the only clothes he’s wearing are jeans and that unfortunate apron. He puts the scrambled eggs on plates. - I prepared breakfast. - What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?! – I can’t stand it, almost suffocating with indignation. - Could you wait until eight in the morning before yelling like that? – the guy winces, putting the frying pan in the sink. I raise my eyebrows expressively. - I would be very grateful...