Paparazzi. Novel

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Oleg flounced into a prison cell, like a scared, confused rat caught in a cage rat trap. After standing for a few seconds at the small barred window, looking into a grey blur of the sky, he rushed to the door, which finally went to his bunk. A little after sitting on the hard prison beds, he got up and again rushed into the prison cell. His concern was not transmitted to the second prisoner, an older man with dried-up brown face in a red plaid shirt and old black sweatpants. The old man sat on his bunk, hands folded on his knees and thought about something else. He was so deadpan, and his gaze was so complacent, what looking at it, one would think that his thoughts are extremely bright and good. Oleg walked over to the gray cold wall, and fixed his forehead to it.

“God,” he said quietly.

.....

“Drink champagne with me’

“I’m at work.”

.....