The MILKMAID was late for her flight — flying on vacation for the first time in her life, when suddenly an expensive car pulled up nearby.
On Monday, the spacious, sunlit office of the agricultural company buzzed like an agitated beehive. The final meeting was taking place, but most people were already lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, the director—a sturdy man in his fifties named Vitaly Semyonovich, always impeccably dressed in a neat plaid shirt—raised his hand, calling for silence. … Read more