Silvester and Andriy: How not to look down

      On Lenin Street, 20, Przemek was basking in the sun, its warmth caressing his skin. He sat on a bench, eyes closed, lazily fanning himself to cool down. Suddenly, Nemo rushed up to him, eyes wide with panic, like a lamb startled by thunder.       - Przemek! We’ve got a serious problem! -Nemo cried.       Przemek opened his eyes and glared at Nemo.       - What the fuck, Nemo? Can’t you see I’m enjoying myself? — he snapped.       - Silvester just sat on a cobra! He tripped over a bottle and fell backward onto it, and now the cobra’s awake and hissing! — Nemo babbled in a panic.       - Oh, fuck, — Przemek groaned, lifting his hands and palms in exasperation.       - Where’s Silvester?       - He screamed and shit himself, — Mettler muttered, looking down.       - I asked where he is, — Przemek repeated, voice rising.       - That’s where he is, — Kucyk clarified with a shrug.       A scream tore through the air — it was Sylvester. He was clutching his backside, flailing wildly across the courtyard.       - A-A-Ah! I sat on a cobra! — he howled.       - Some friend you’ve got, — Przemek said, shaking his head. — Doesn’t even look where he’s sitting.       Meanwhile, Andriy sat on a bench, massaging his lower back — the very spot Silvester had just landed on. His face twisted in pain. Khayat had been watching Silvester’s frantic run out of the corner of her eye. In the meantime, Nemo and Przemek didn’t waste a second. They rushed to Silvester to calm him down. They caught up quickly. Nemo brushed the dust off Silvester’s shirt and pants.       - Couldn’t you look where you’re sitting?! — Przemek scolded.       - Let’s go—now, — Przemek barked.       The three of them quickly left Lenin Street, 20.