5th kilometer from the City.

- Honey, let's open all the windows? It seems you can already breathe ...

- Let's first drive to the seventh kilometer.

- And what is there, on the seventh kilometer, you are an old Kabbalist? The feature of the magic circle?

- Not. Just there the forest begins, and there is less dust in the air.

He calmly looked ahead, holding his hand on the gear lever, dangerously close to Her thigh. The conveyor of the road carried by the trees trees voting with empty dry branches. He was good. He was driving home. Neither her twitter nor the City lurking behind this city distracted this thought ... Ahead, not far away, stood the House, with which He had not seen for a long time.

The house, on the backyards of which a snub-nosed little boy still jumps, scaring pigeons and brownies. The Old House, which has moved to the side, like a cap from a dashing Cossack forelock. Once he was young, weak, and the boy liked to be measured with his strength. I threw snowballs, loosened the railing, stomped on the roof. The house groaned, but suffered. Already then he was a kind, gift that young, home. And I never hurt the boy who ran for it every day as he could. I didn’t drop it from the roof, I didn’t go upstairs, I didn’t set a step on the threshold ... I didn’t cut it with a broken window glass ...

7th kilometer.

- Yeah, that's the forest ... Now you can?

- Yes, - He smiled, - Now you can.

- I love it when you smile. Become a completely different person ...

- Do not look for pens. Here on the buttons panel, click them - and that's it ...

- Great! - She took an inaudible chord on the keyboard of the buttons, the windows amicably crawled down, and for some reason the alarm went off.

“This is already superfluous,” He turned off the emergency signal and looked at Her. - Well, so fresher?

- Still would! - She immediately took out a cigarette and lit a cigarette. - You won't get used to such air right away. It is necessary gradually ... And then the head will begin to spin with unaccustomed!

He, too, lit a cigarette, glancing at Her. She, with her legs crossed, leaned back in her chair and looked out the window. Outside the window, without looking around, the trees were running somewhere.

- You have nothing to drink? - She asked suddenly. - And then the head is still dizzy, you need to unleash it in the opposite direction ...

- In the glove compartment is a bottle of wine. Can you open it yourself? - He did not want to stop.

- Of course. Than?

- There is a knife, see.

- Yes, you are a surprisingly gallant gentleman. Glasses, I probably will not find in your glove compartment.

- Not. Drink from the neck - less splashing ...

- You are greedy and rude. I'm not friends with you ...

- Do not be angry. Astronauts generally eat from tubes ...

- Okay, okay ... Do not get out. Will there be another sip?

- No, where do I ... I'm driving. However, a sip is possible. Let's.

The first time he drank wine there, in the House. It is not known which of them got drunk more, but both began to dance, and black and white photographs of red and white ancestors miraculously held onto the walls. In the morning one step was not counted, and nobody knew how many tiles fell off the roof. She and Dom were conspirators and did not share their little secrets with adults. In the morning, both were ill, and the House was quickly blinded by a cloud that squeezed rain on two hangover heads.

10th kilometer.

- What a breeze! You will not catch cold?

- There is nothing. - He took another sip and did not add: - He will cure me if something happens.

- Who is "he" - she did not ask.

“My House ...” He said out loud.

- What is "your home"? - She was surprised. The eyes sparkle, the skirt creeps up, slowly, like a curtain in the old cinema hall ...

- Nothing. You will like my house. It is cozy there ...

It's good that you don't hear me, old man ... To say “cozy” about you ... Yes ... Don't worry, I remember everything. And as you can treat, I remember too. Well, that grandma insisted then that I was brought to you from the hospital. You pulled me upstairs, like a seine from the bottom, with a floundering catch of future years. Did I already say thank you? I do not remember ... Thank you. Thank. Thank.

15th kilometer.

“So weird ...” she said.

- What?

“We both understand where we are going and why.” And still on you, and not even kissing once ... - You do not understand where you are going! - He did not shout. - Why - this is not so important.

- I like you very much. It has long been liked. Let's kiss ... - she put her hand on his knee. Drunk, beautiful, kind girl.

- What if you do not like ... You have to go back. And I want to show you so ...

House. Show it to you, make a hostess for a day, for two, for life. That's how it goes. It's up to him. Home The house is better versed in women than its owner. Everything that is given to know by the Master is told by the House. From the day when He first spied on the disgraces of his cousin from Rostov, he retained the memory of a gap in the ceiling, from which there was an amazing view of the guest room. And who, if not the House, winked at him with a creak with all the other slots, expanding this one as he could.

20th kilometer.

She fell silent. The road has taken its toll, the face has become more serious, the eyes glitter are already quite bad. A half-empty bottle is trapped in the lap, for what - oh! - I had to raise my skirt even higher. Her hand lies thoughtfully on his arm, her fingers stroke the brush like a dog, the lever of the box responds with a jealous grunt. Outside the window flies barbecue, throwing a taut predatory aroma through the window.

He puts the cassette to scare her hand away. The hand goes, brings the bottle to his lips - and immediately returns, settling himself on his thigh. And then he goes with the inspection to a nearby place where he expects to find you-know-what. And it really is there, it is s-zh, but in a state so helpless that its little finger bends with a mournful question mark: Why? Laski are becoming more insistent, she is waiting for an answer, but only the lever of the box stands inside the cabin with a trembling phallic symbol. Nothing else...

It is there, at Home, surprises await her. He smiles. And what! There, on the couch storing the memory of the First and Only One, he will show her what he can do. If only the shadow of the lantern still fell on the wall, if only the old wooden mocker was silent ... He was silent, as on that first night, showing two silhouettes on the white wall. Their contours can still be seen if you know where to look. It only hurts to see them, these silhouettes, and the House sometimes turns on all of its electricity to get them out of the wall, from memory, out.

And then flies to the light of the midges. And women. And friends. And on the old veranda sounds laughter in which only He can hear the familiar squeaking. Then the guests and the guests go to bed, and the House swaddles them with silence, in the morning to wake up everyone carefully — someone with a sunbeam, someone with a favorite kiss. And then sit on the veranda yesterday for a sunny morning tea. And bothering around, slamming the doors, placing the chairs so that everyone who came to the Boss would feel at home ... 23rd kilometer from the City.

- Oh, what is it? - She frightened staring out the window.

He braked sharply at the curb.

- Come out!

“You ... what ... What happened?”

- Come out! - He opened the door for her, pale, who understood everything immediately and that is why he was already dead.

She left, holding the bottle in her hand, looking at him in surprise.

He closed the door behind her, turned on the first gear and, slowly, drove to Home. He, even when he burned out, understood the Master's desire and set fire to the gas line in the flaming headache. The car stopped in the midst of the ashes. The explosion mixed with the crash of the last collapsed wall.

She screamed, not hearing herself. Bastards rushed out of the bushes, wherever they looked, leaving a disposable lighter on the ground ...

And only a boy in a sailor suit was in no hurry to escape. He found a brownie in the ashes and picked him up. And he walked away, through a hysterical woman, last looking back at the House, which he could not carry with him. © Mr. Kiss, One Hundred Splinters of One Sense, 1998–1999