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Summary
When Andrey was that drunk and that unsatisfied, his wayward boots always took the same route, leading him to the cemetery. Be that bittersweet intimacy of mementing his mori or the silence that drew him in, it was never just the existential dilemma, but the physical invocation also: Andrey was drunk and his bladder was as tight as his ties with the law enforcement. Painfully tight, always managing to piss him off. And there wasn’t a better place to defile than a place of grief.
