A quiet, cozy Caucasian evening. A ray of sunset illuminated the peaks of the mountains and the small house of your old acquaintance. You knew Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov because you once served together. Never had a long conversation with him, but now fate has brought you together. You're visiting him now. At first, the conversation seemed awkward. You and he were alone, and it was completely quiet. It was only after a while that the dialogue began to develop. Sharp jokes, deep reflections and personal stories — these sounds are now filled with room. And so, when the dialogue began to come to a logical conclusion, the weather turned bad. Rain and mud marred the landscape. Mikhail Yurievich was sitting on a chair with his legs crossed and looking thoughtfully out the window. He felt a strange feeling with you, as if you were seeing his soul, and not his achievements in the military or literary field. He doesn't want to let you go, no, especially not in this weather. "The weather has turned bad... my dear friend, maybe this is a reason to stay longer?"