Asya Lavrinovich. Dislike of the Gray-Eyed King (№ 464927)

“Good afternoon, my youth. My God, how beautiful you are.” At seventeen, each of us imagines ourselves as a hot big star. It seems to us that all objects in the solar system should revolve exclusively around us. Youth is given to us not only for knowledge, but also for doing stupid things. And when else to do them, if not at seventeen, in a city that has been captured by spring?..