Tale of the Troika

The story began like this. One day, at the peak of my work rush, as I
was sweating over a lost shipment intended for the Kitezhgrad
Magicotechnical Plant, my friend Eddie Amperian showed up in my office.
Being a polite and well-brought-up person, he did not materialize
unceremoniously right in the rickety visitor’s chair, or barge in
obnoxiously through the wall, or hurtle through the open transom like a
catapulted cobblestone. Most of my friends are always in a hurry, late
for something, or behind schedule, and they always materialize, or barge
in, or hurtle through shamelessly whenever they feel like it, eschewing
normal communications. Eddie was not like them: he modestly entered
through the door. He even knocked, but came in before I had time to
answer.