The polar night hangs over the Kola Peninsula. The sun's rays had not peeked through the windows for a long time. It was gloomy in the mornings, and his head constantly ached, which is why Pavel Nikolaevich Larin often fell into melancholy. Still, it’s better to be gray-haired than bald,” Pavel Nikolaevich noted and, having wiped himself dry with a terry towel, refreshed his smoothly shaved cheeks with fragrant cologne. It’s Sunday, it’s what Monday - now everything was one... Pavel Nikolaevich involuntarily began to reflect on the vicissitudes of a carefree old age.