In the troubles and worries another day passed. Another day of life, which is already heading for sunset. How many days there were ... And it always seemed to her that there would be many, many more such days, maybe the best. And suddenly one day she felt, somehow suddenly and immediately, that now there were, perhaps, not so many of them left, that life already, read, lived, that's great grandchildren too ... More and more often in her thoughts she returns to the days of her past life, going through these past days, these past events, part of the past, and partly also aged people — all this became for her some sort of regular need. It was when she caught herself in this need that she felt that she was already an old woman, and that everything, alas, was already behind her ... And now she is sitting in the kitchen. The house is sleeping. Insomnia alone doesn’t give her the opportunity to get her tired body into bed and surrender to a sleep-relieving sleep, she knows that if she does, she will have a fierce struggle for sleep, from which she will only get tired and exhausted. And she is sitting in the kitchen, stretching her old hands relaxedly along the lid of the kitchen table, looking at them. "God, how terrible they have become." But she remembers them, or rather, it is precisely those that remember, with gentle and smooth female hands, and every time her gaze falls on these hands, she internally shudders, not immediately realizing that these are her hands.

And now she is intently examining these of her own, but still alien, hands, turning them from side to side. New veins. Wrinkled skin. And once these hands were kissing beautiful men, on these fingers beautiful rings sparkled. And now? It hurts to watch. Only two modest little rings that fit into the canvas of her life are still inseparable from these hands. On the ring finger of his left hand, a narrow wedding ring was golden. Vanya secretly bought the ego and brought the ego to the registry office. Then it was not a "law", rather almost reprehensible. And in the registry office, to her surprise and, what to say, to the secret and ineradicable feminine joy in front of a beautiful decoration, put it on his finger. And now it has found its final widow’s place. A small golden ring - and all the married life was concentrated in it by supersaturated emanation.

And on the right hand, on the little finger, there was another even more modest silver ring. Over the top was a half-worn pattern. And it was clear that it is very old. Not old, but just old. And what value could it have?

She hardly removes the silver ring from her bony finger and looks inside it, trying to read the inscription engraved on its inner surface. She's almost worn out. Yes, and if not this - with her eyes to read it? However, she knows perfectly well what is engraved there. Name. Surname. Date. God, how it was a long time ago. And by habit, he thinks, where is he now, the one whose surname wears together for so many years, for all eternity? Is he alive? And if dead, where is his grave? And how I would like her to sit and cry on her ...

There was a long war, which began an eternity ago and went on, it seemed, a whole historical epoch. And although there was already a lot of signs that victory was just around the corner, it was hard to believe that the day would come when the shots would subside, they would not kill anyone, the postmen would not wear funerals, they dreamed about it passionately, but afraid to make a date. And the war was going on, rolling its gunslides farther and westward, spilling over the border, and the funerals were going on, relatives, friends, colleagues were dying ... As a young girl, she served as a telegraph operator at a military communications center. At this time it was located in the newly liberated Budapest.

She did not remember how he appeared at their bachelorette party on the occasion of the birthday of their girlfriend Lena Serebrova. He was the only man and immediately conquered all.A swarthy gypsy face, some polished and polished all the features and details of this face, a slender figure on which the form of a pilot with an order and several medals on his chest sat perfectly and elegantly. In addition, he was still cheerful, surprisingly well singing gypsy songs with a guitar. All the girls immediately fell deeply in love with him and tried hard to please him. But for some reason he singled it out of all. Although she did not consider herself beautiful in any way, Lena Serebrova, for example, to her taste, which was presumed by men, was much more effective, and there could not be any comparison in terms of courage and dexterity with guys. What she actually was at that time was a timid, fledgling eighteen-year-old chicken dodging men with their rude army jokes. And he chose her. Why? Still a mystery to her. She fell in love immediately and without reserve.

And then they were together on the beautiful streets of Budapest. This part of the city did not suffer at all, although here in the litter of the streets, in the congestion of the windows, it was felt that just recently it was a front-line city. But the houses of the Viennese baroque were still beautiful in their beauty, the luxurious villas were still immersed in the greenery of parks and lawns ... And they walked around the city, looked at houses, shop windows and shops, walked through the wonderful autumn squares and parks of Budapest and said , said, read each other poems. It turned out that they loved the same poets and often even the same poems of these poets were their favorite - the poems of Yesenin, Akhmatova, Gumilyov, rewritten from one notebook to another. With him, she felt as free as ever, and it was amazing. And his caresses and kisses on public gardens sprinkled with autumn leaves burned her and raised completely unknown to her hitherto feelings in her whole body, in every cell of this body, feelings that were thrown in these cells, looking for a way out and complete resolution, and only girlish shyness she hardly kept her from answering herself with hot kisses on these burning gypsy eyes, on thin hands with fingers of a musician herself ...

And then they ended up in some kind of hotel bar. On the occasion of wartime, the hotel, apparently, was empty, the owner himself serviced them, taking them as dear and welcome guests, as liberators who had driven away the hated Nazis and the corrupt pack of Horthy, and, perhaps, as the first signs of the coming post-war prosperity. He himself poured thick wine into thin blackened glasses and said that this was the best Tokay of his cellar, saved by him from the Nazis, which his grandfather had laid in the cellar before the Hungarian uprising, and for the Russians he was ready to do everything. And they drank wine, and a light gentle hop hit in the head, the body was filled with warmth and a little disobedience. And then the owner asked:

- Maybe the Russian masters need a room? I have very good ones. Gentlemen will be pleased.

He looked at her, and she did not look away.

“Yes, we will need a room today,” he said.

She still remembers that night in the hotel, that first night of her love, with all the details and sensations. She also remembers her girlish shame, and how together they overcame it, and the heat of nude touches, which burned like coals scattered throughout the body, she still keeps the memory of the gravity of the male body, remembers that pain and blood droplets on white sheets, and his bitten lips, and remembers the madness of his words and all that passionate and insane night of love in the middle of a war in a liberated city in an empty hotel ...

In the morning he accompanied her on duty. They walked past the jewelry shop.

“Let's go,” he said. - I want to give you something to remember about this night and our meeting.

The shop owner met them right at the door and crumbled in an apology that there was nothing valuable and worthy of the high Russian guests, all the gold and valuables were confiscated by the Nazis. There were only knickknacks and fakes. If the Russian guests came to him before the war, he would have offered them diamonds, pearls and gold products worthy of them.And now, such grief, only this junk remained.