A cold, prickly wind rushes and slaps my face in the face, flies up and tears dry yellow birch leaves, plays with it in the air and, like a boring toy, throws it into a black dirty puddle, in which a fence of metal rods and upper windows is reflected in a colorless movie one of the buildings of the business center in which I work. I chill out from the dank air, which is absorbed into clothes like water, causing my body to shudder, for a couple of seconds I feel warmth on the surface of the skin, brought by blood from the depths of my body, and I walk through the open doors of the fence.

For a cool metal handle I open a tight entrance door, as if I was dispersing thick cold oil spreading under my feet. Finally, the warm air squeezes out parts of my thorny cold from my clothes, touches the skin, and with warm hands hugs my body. I tighten the cap, with short, intermittent movements I straighten my hair, not forgetting to cast a seemingly casual glance in a mirror fixed on the wall opposite the entrance. And why you can not hang this mirror a little to the right, you have to take a step to the side to get into it, and then go to the elevators. And if you do not look at him? Then I don’t find out that some of the strands of my hair is dabbing on my head, making my look silly. And I would not want to look like that. And if you take a step in his direction and see, it will show everyone that my appearance is important to me, as if it would make me less courageous, because a real man does not bother with such a trifle as a protruding bunch of hair.

You still have to take this step, as if by chance, as if you just walked a little to one side to take off your hat, unbutton your jacket, and already the look itself accidentally crashed into a mirror and, as if not finding anything interesting there, just as quickly left him How can such nonsense even bother me, bother me, what will they think of me when they see my step back and look in the mirror? But my brain persistently paid attention to this petty action, as if it received a sadistic pleasure by scrupulously grinding this thought into powder for complete study and assimilation. And while I am forcibly, I will not rudely throw this idea out of my head, my brain will continue to play with it like a kitten with a ball, finding interest in an absolutely simple and monotonous occupation. So my thinking is arranged. I realized this a long time ago and just accepted it. Leaving all attempts to re-educate my mind, I simply took the position of a formidable warden who would stop inappropriate behavior, although it looked more like a strictly outside and kind inside caregiver, pulling children who were carried away by innocent prankiness.

Waiting for the elevator. Often I come before the majority of employees. I do not like this everyday vanity, it catches on me the despondency of working days. Coming earlier to almost empty offices, I can not dissipate the charge of energy on the way to my place, at this time the office does not smell like weekdays, bustle, a pile of urgent and important tasks, it is still quiet, the fluorescent cold lamps are still not included, the air is peaceful resting, not shaking talk, laughter, working office equipment. And you already feel yourself not as some kind of hired worker, but a little as the owner of this place. It is you who violate his peace and quiet, your steps freely and readily spread by fresh sound in the space of openspace, your hand turns on the light, the lamps will distribute glass chatter, blinking to the beat, and the snow-white drowsy morning light will fill the empty workplaces by wrapping sleepy white eyes cotton wool

I throw off my jacket, throw it on a hanger, which stands not far from my workplace. It's still empty.Spread out in my office chair, turn on the computer. The quiet rustle of the fan is perfectly audible, I think, not only from my seat, but also further, behind the low blue partitions.

Today was Friday, which made this day especially enjoyable. On the one hand, I was overcome with enthusiasm, I wanted to work out this day with full dedication, on the other, I could not get rid of the pack of thoughts that had flown into it since early morning. These were thoughts about sex. About shameless, depraved sex, with the same shameless depraved girls. These are not just thoughts that can be easily driven away, with which you can agree to leave you alone, or just forget until the evening. These thoughts are annoyingly gnawing at the head, flickering before my eyes, making it difficult to focus on work affairs. It is enough to relax for a minute, yielding to their onslaught, and they, like a sticky gum, stick around my mind, and there is no longer a chance that today they will lag behind me. Calm down, calm down, I carefully try to continue to work, trying not to wake the perverse fantasies that already felt victory over me, as soon as the thump of women's heels coming from the openspace will make them move, anxious, they wake up, with agile cockroaches spreading over my head. Well, a beautiful curvaceous lady, passing by my workplace, who wrapped her slender legs and elastic ass in tight jeans, will rekindle unmanaged chaos among them. And again, pictures with vulgar naked beauties are drawn in my head, which I want to touch, stroke, cling lips to their bodies, feel every part of their skin, inhale their smell.

Whatever it was, the day goes on as usual, the minutes rush completely unnoticed, then stretch like a golden trickle of honey, stretched out after the fallen drop into a mug of hot tea. I try, do my tasks, the availability of time helps to convince the brain to work and give a significant share of the energy to work.

My hand nervously picks up a mobile phone, fingers glide over its smooth surface, leaving smearing traces, a reflection draws a reduced image of ceiling lamps, everything else is reflected by muffled shadows of rectangular faces, barely visible on the dark glass of the phone. I have to feed my thoughts enough, otherwise they will not leave me. Tonight, to hell with it. All weekend will be held in a terrible struggle of my indefatigable debauchery and the desire to do something useful. Maybe I just do not know how to deal with it? Do others somehow everything is different? I do not think. It is hardly possible to find such a man who would be against depraved sex. But if so, why can the rest focus on work, fully immersed in business, why they can take their days off with useful things, why can they finally learn what they need in their work, developing and improving their knowledge? Maybe they just learned how to insulate themselves from such thoughts? Either these thoughts are born in their heads and die as rapidly as fast as sparks of flame, hot, bright, but disappearing without a trace in a couple of seconds. Then why can't I get rid of them with the same ease? After all, I am fully aware that this is stopping me, hindering my business, work. I think that this phenomenon has roots that go deep into my consciousness. Perhaps, having got to the bottom of the essence, this can be overcome. It seems like, for this, there are psychologists. But I do not strongly believe in their healing verbal magic. What can they say to me? Yes, I myself understand everything perfectly, not sure that they will help me with anything. One way or another, I like it all. Yes, all this sometimes gets in the way, coming at a completely unnecessary moment, and sometimes very often. But, while I do not see in it any serious problem. Therefore, I, as they say, try to just relax and have fun.

Driven by fingers with automatic movements, I remove the lock from the phone. I find “Nastya” in the address book.The girl with whom I met a month ago in one of the clubs, where I sometimes get out to search for those whom my thoughts require. Looking at the recording of her name in the phone, imagination for a couple of seconds shook the memory of last weekend when I invited her to my rented apartment. That was enough ...