“A sparrow flew into the wide-open window of the prenatal ward, sat down on the iron bed of the empty bed, defecated, chirped loudly, victoriously, and just as quickly fluttered out into the street. “This is some kind of Bulgakovism,” said the woman in labor who was watching the sparrow. “A boy.” “, the other one said confidently, confirming her forecast with a nod of her head. I was waiting for the girl. Everyone told me it would be a girl. You know how women look at a pregnant woman’s belly, smile, sigh, thinking about their own things, and then say: “boy” or “girl”..."