An ordinary hectic busy life. And suddenly she suddenly stopped. The telephones went silent, friends and acquaintances disappeared somewhere. They didn’t dissolve, they just moved forward and are almost invisible. From the window of the hospital room, emptiness is visible. And in this emptiness, somewhere far away lives a daughter whom Dmitry Pavlovich has not seen for a long time. And for a very long time, maybe never, I didn’t talk to her about something important, the main thing for myself. And he began to write her letters that he did not send.