Silence, and we two. Me and you, my baby. My favorite, dear, my one and only. You understand me without words. You and I don't need words. Why are the words of the two who can so beautifully be silent?

I do not like and do not want to talk to you, because you still will not answer. You won't put a hand on my shoulder. You will not touch the palm of my head. You do not wipe my tears. You never say: Do not cry. I know this as well as my name is Karina; as well as the fact that I work in the magazine Wanton; as well as the fact that yesterday I turned 26; as well as the fact that yesterday I was all alone, and no one congratulated me, except for my best and most hypocritical friend, Ksyushenka; as well as the fact that four years ago Ksyushenka stole Nikita from me and married him instead of me.

Phone. He is again trying to separate us from you, and I allow it to him.

- Hello! - I wheeze into the phone.

- Hello! - Answer from the tube. - Do you sleep?

- I'm sleeping.

- What the hell? - asks the handset.

“I'm tired,” I don’t understand why I’m justifying myself to her.

- From what? You do not do anything.

- I work.

- Oh! She works! - teasing voice from the tube. - I, too, work, all day long on the keys of the computer to knock. Here I am working. Here I am tired.

- Well, of course! - I agree with the voice. Ksyushenka always works best of all, gets tired most of all and needs rest more than anyone. She is a teacher. She teaches Ukrainian at school, where she graduated. We studied together with her at the Faculty of Philology.

- Are you dead there? - again called the voice.

- I do not know. Maybe she died.

- Karin, I'm going to you.

- What for?

- I will spend the night with you.

- Why?

- I quarreled with Nikita.

- Again?

“Again,” tried to raise my voice.

- Ed.

I hung up and the voice dropped. We are again only together, but not for long. Soon the most brazen of her best friends will come. We are again ..., I'm sorry, again you can not be together. You're not offended, are you? Got used to You always know her like that. She quarrels with her husband, who could and should have become my husband, and comes to me in search of political asylum. This is normal.

We are already used to you. Here it is. She has already arrived. She has a good car after all. More precisely at her-my husband. On this machine, instead, I could drive. I could have a good car.

- Come on in.

- Oh, Karina, you again nadyla, - reproaches me the most caring of impudent friends. - You know, smoking is harmful to health. The Ministry of Health, by the way, warns. Here it is written on the pack. And I forgot, you do not read in English. Then smoke our cigarettes. Prima Lux, new, very decent, Nikita said. Oh, Karinka, he is such a bastard, - quickly switched from cigarettes to our husband Xenia.

- What is it this time? - I asked, pretending that I do not give a damn.

- Karinka, he wants a child! - the most formidable detonator from the caring hypocrite was indignant. - Says: Ksyunchik, and maybe we have a pupsik? I'll be hot! What a babe? Me and my school assholes enough! I packed up and left.

To me, as always. Nikita will come home from work, see that Ksyunchik is not there, call her mother-in-law, Xenia will not be with her mother, and he will immediately guess where to find her. Will arrive. I'll take a jacket, umbrella and go for a walk. I'll be back in two hours and find my supposed husband in my bed with my very happy arrogant girlfriend.

“Karina, make me some tea,” deigned to order my economic child hater.

“You know where the teapot is,” I replied and went to you.

- What are you not hospitable, - again reproached Xenia. - It is immediately clear that you have not been to Muslim countries. According to Karan, they have the law of hospitality above the law of blood revenge ... It will long be talking about the Koran, about Muslims and their lives.Our absent husband with her drove the best of my talkative friends to Turkey, and to Abkhazia, and to Chechnya twice. He is a reporter. Previously, he also worked at Wanton e. We met there. Do you remember, my dear, how did Nikita first come to visit us? Of course, remember. This can not be forgotten. He was on ...

- What do you have for tea? I'm terribly hungry.

This is a scream from the kitchen. I guess I'll go there. Ksyusha is the most pig-like of the best girlfriends who do not like children. No, I will not go there. The doorbell rings. Of course, Nikita. - Hello, Karinochka. BUT...

- I, - knowing by heart his speech, without waiting for the end of it, I replied. Nikita laughed. Still, how beautiful my husband could laugh.

“In the kitchen,” I clarified that he would not waste time searching for his wife in my thirty-square-meter apartment. Suddenly get lost.

I did not wait until my hungry brazen girlfriend and my possible spouse begin to sort things out. I just took the jacket, umbrella and left.

How to reap that you are not with me. We would talk. And so I have no one to talk to. Even though you understand me without words, I do not like to think alone, not having the confidence that you hear my thoughts.

I sat on the bench and began to rummage through the leaves.

- Is this busy? - I heard someone hoarse voice over his head.

I looked up and saw a boy of about 16.

- What? I asked, confused.

- Can I sit next to you? - He asked.

- Yes, sit down.

I looked around. Around it was full of free shops.

- Why did you decide to sit here? - I asked.

- What? He asked, confused.

- Are you waiting for someone?

“Yes,” he smiled back.

What eyes! Very handsome boy. Almost like the one who married my happy sluggish who doesn't love children. And he loves. And I love. So what did motivate him to marry Ksyushenka, not me?

- A girl? - I asked.

- Yes.

- What is her name?

- Charlotte.

- She is French?

- Half.

- beautiful?

- Highly. What is your name?

- It does not matter.

- What is his name?

I looked at the boy in amazement.

- Whom?

- Well, His. Togo, because of which you are here, because of which you are so sad, because of which it does not matter.

“Nikita,” I myself don’t know why, I admitted.

- He is beautiful?

- Looks like you. Or you at it.

Charlotte appeared. Really charming. Blonde. I would have fallen in love with her too. The boy hugged Charlotte, and they slowly dissolved into the gold alley. I got up, looked at the clock. Two hours have passed. I'll go home.

As I expected, Karina was in bed with my desirable husband. I looked to them and went to you. Immediately. So that you do not wait, do not worry.

Silence, and we two. You and me, my baby. The best friend who married the one for whom I myself would love to leave, has already left and took our Nikita with her. Nikita loves her. Loves her, not me. He comes to me once a week when his wife, my arrogant girlfriend, has poetry mugs. He opens the door with his key, silently enters the room where you and I are lying on the sofa. Every time he brings expensive wine, but we never drink it. It is a pity to spend a single evening on wine. We drink wine on a different occasion, but he still brings it every time. He silently throws you out of bed and takes your place next to me. I don't speak with him either. He, like you, understands me without words. He regrets once a week that he loves my girlfriend, who for four years as his legal wife, who has been driving his good car for four years, and who has been wearing horns for me for four years. And while my conscience is clear, because my hypocritical best friend stole him from me. And when he leaves, we are left alone with you, and there is silence.