The End of the Way. Vladimir Slipets

him. In my bar went one like this. He was dressed in worn blue jeans with black shirt and with white collar (the classic element of the priest’s costume), and brown boots. There was a book with red cross, tattered, you could see that it was the old one. Green eyes, smile with white teeth stretched to sharp ears on square face, short hair, and big scar on neck and under the temple. So, he came, sat down, ordered a drink: