“Andrei Andreevich Vorsyankin, an accountant of the Volna gardening partnership, who had an honest face, but was forever saddened by decimal fractions, was returning from the small wholesale market in an even mood, when he suddenly felt somewhere in the area of the crown of his head an itchy, obsessive stirring of thought. This new sensation frightened Andrei Andreich so much that he almost dropped his bag with two cans of Hungarian peas and Pyshka margarine...”