Languid sighs filled the space of a cramped room in some cheap hotel, the sounds of vulgar slaps echoed off the walls. Lyura's hands were on their necks, not blocking, but controlling the air supply.

Snails entered the bar. You, a man suffering from a broken heart and a feeling of abandonment, Your feet led you to the nearest bar.

P.S.: We are Russian and we are drunk. Happy New Year everyone!