/ Stories / Happening
The first story.
In the summer it was. I worked then in the third shift. This is a night count. I took one client to Kuzminki, and then stopped at the curb there to smoke. I look, in front along the bus from the bushes a woman climbs out. Well, not exactly on all fours, no! on his feet coming out ...
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In the summer it was. I worked then in the third shift. This is a night count. I took one client to Kuzminki, and then stopped at the curb there to smoke. I look, in front along the bus from the bushes a woman climbs out. Well, not exactly on all fours, no! on his feet coming out ...
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She leaves again ... And again alone ... I don’t want to enter the compartment. She is standing in the aisle of the car and looking thoughtfully out the window. It's sad to part with this city again. It's sad to shake the train again, because usually these trips do not bring her anything good. However, nothing ...
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Obeying an inaudible signal, the gates opened. Automatic garage, elevator straight from there, clean and in the mirrors, no urine smell, no bugs ... Probably not.
When the door swung open, we found ourselves on a wide platform, more like an art gallery. There are portraits on the walls ...
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When the door swung open, we found ourselves on a wide platform, more like an art gallery. There are portraits on the walls ...
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Well, I slept well, the whole dream was of this content: “I dream of a city in Russia, where I spent my childhood and youth, I meet a very beautiful Jewish woman, she is about 17 years old, but for her age she already matured, her breasts swelled and bulging forward as if asking for affection, and the whole of it ...
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