Fiction is like that. Like lemon pay. It gives you two rewards by reading it: purpose and satisfaction. And to analyze this particular aspect of fiction I’ll start by placing the crust by grinding the «biscuits» of knowledge. PAY CRUSTThe sun shines and the catherpes mexicanus in the garage, laughs with its peculiar call. I look out the window and there blooms the colourful explosion of flowers in June. I take the hat from the door’s hanger and disaster! It. Is. Over. The. Desk. I can’t see an inch of working surface and I know, I won’t be able to work happily later if I don’t do shit. Out with…