“...The judge’s voice sounded evenly and dispassionately - what did this tall woman with an old-fashioned hairdo have to do with him? She constantly sees them in front of her - identical, confused, and they merge into one face - common, blurry, without shades - one faceless and eyeless monster. Somewhere a woman is crying, or does it seem to him? He listens and understands - she’s crying his mother, she shouldn’t worry... He looks at her, trying to calm her down, give her strength, and meets the dry, burning gaze of his little sister - why are you looking like that, it’s not my fault, I want to shout to him, but it’s too late. His lips They whisper these words like a magic formula: “It’s too late. It’s already late...”