It all started with an ordinary trip to the hairdresser. Five-year-old Zhenya habitually sat down in a chair opposite the mirror, looked at his reflection, then at the hairdresser and... froze with horror. A real witch stood in front of him. Disgusting, evil, scary old woman. The sharp scissors in her hand clanged. A cadaverous stench poured over the child. But why doesn’t his grandmother, Elizaveta Petrovna, who brought the baby for a haircut, notice anything? Why did Zhenya’s father take his son’s story with humor? Have adults really become so coarse and blind that they don’t feel the cold of the grave just a step away from them?