Dedicated to what was not And what could be. So, dear friends, it is Alyosha Peshkov, and not at all Maxim Gorky. Here is the real name of that seasoned writer. Those who knew it, let their heads shake in sympathy. Those who did not know - will be surprised. And if there are those who do not believe me - welcome, come to the station "Park Kultury" and walk up the plate at the end of the hall. Everything is written there. And this, by the way, is not accidental: after all, it is at the tablet that I am standing now and from here I begin my tragic narrative.

Do you know what day it is? It is a shame, brothers, shame: So I remind you - today is Friday. And what number, remember? Not? Well, do not be ashamed. I myself do not remember either. But around the middle of October. But all this is vanity. The main thing - in the park of culture today is the last disco. Last - and all. More discos will not be winter. Something must happen today. It should be according to all the laws of sociology, mathematical analysis and probability theory. That is why our determination today is extremely cocked, our eyes sharp and sharp.

- Whose is "our" - you ask?

- How is it, whose - I wonder - my best friend Sasha is with me.

: And under the curious views of the readers, two pleasant young men will impressively proceed to the escalator.

- In vain they painted the vault with brilliant paint - with hope I will ask Sasha.

- Yes, Sergey, in vain - he will answer me with genuine politeness and courtesy.

It's cold outside. So cold that even an innocent idea to go to the balcony seems like a big mistake. Whether Sasha and I thought the same, or I was alone in my comparisons - to be honest, I don’t know. With a familiar step, we will approach the familiar tent.

- No, my friend, today I will not be “nine”. The mood, you know, not the one:

And Sasha will be happy to buy two Bochkarev.

The Crimean bridge meets us with joyful lights, and the mighty Peter I drills him with an angry gaze, standing knee-deep on his bronze sailboat. We are going to the culture park - and I'm incredibly happy that everything is just beginning. Let the autumn puddles gape with their blackness, let the gates look inhospitable: Today is Friday - which means I'll forget about it.

By the way, I spoke about the gate not by chance. After all, they have, we noticed a lonely couple, drowning in a hurricane of autumn leaves. A clear and rhythmic gait, which would have said a lot to the village boy, the classical “arm-in-arm” pose — everything said that we were on the right path. Sasha spoke:

- Girls!

The girls turned and shot us with their frightened looks.

- Girls: uh: are you here alone walking?

“Found what to ask,” I thought softly. Judging by the expressions on the girls' faces, they thought the same thing.

- Well, yes - they awarded us the answer.

- Can we walk with you? No, well, if you do not want:

- Take a walk.

A start was made, and therefore it became happier. Sighing freely and throwing a stone from my soul, I opened my mouth. And shut it down. Sasha, meanwhile, continued:

- Do you work or study?

- Why?

- No, well, just wondering:

- Learning.

- And where?

This disc is painfully familiar to everyone, and therefore we will leave Sasha and taking advantage of the moment, we will describe our girlfriends. Did the reader see the autumn street with its enticing lights, gnarled trees and wet roads? Saw. Perfectly. So a piece of this very sad street now walked beside us.

- How old were they? - the reader will ask.

- I do not know how much. Probably as much as it should be.

- What are they wearing?

- And it's hard to say. But not exactly naked:

- Sergei! - Sasha shout will suspend our thoughts. Turn my face to our girlfriends:

- Learn, it means: Well, how interesting?

- Interestingly?

- Study.

It was interesting for them to study. And they loved to cook and loved to eat peaches. But those whom they didn’t like at all were non-Russians.Their family problems did not bother them, but they were not at the Chkalovskaya station.

“Well, well,” I already said. “It was pleasant to take a walk.” Maybe see you later:

Quick and shy gait, we will go to another alley.

- How are you - Sasha will ask.

- Yes, so: - I will answer.

Here, by the way, and a disco. Right on the street, in the open. On the asphalt patch, several figures were twitching, mostly girls. Broad-shouldered shadows stood on the edge, smoked, sipped their beer and showed by their appearance that they were here by chance. Fading autumn, cold street and unpromising, alien dance floor - all this mixed up in me into an unprecedented burning mixture. She gnawed all her soul and oozed out, forcing her to turn around and walk away. “Nothing” - I calmed myself - “Nothing, just need time: Now we walk, we will get used and everything will be:” Sasha stood nearby and looked sadly at the dancers. I understood him well, like no other.

- What do you need? - asked my dear friend, standing at the tent.

- Come on "Nine":

Sasha went to the window:

- Please, "Nine" and "Neva Light".

- you open?

- Yes.

And now the yellow bitterness spreads through my stomach, tapping gently on the head. We are sitting on a bench. Now everything will work out:

And here they passed by. Clearly passed, classically.

And such adults. Similarly, adults. Probably older than us. Sasha raised himself and looked at me:

- Sam site, Illek Oklok! - He said, imitating a virtual pilot from a computer game.

- Targit in Range! - I answered with unleashed American simplicity, becoming like a navigator.

This time it was my turn to perform.

- Hello!

Two scornful glances slid over our jackets.

- Hello!

- Can we walk with you? And then we are bored by one:

- A: Well, try it.

Two round moons with painted lips and empty eyes drowning in black ink looked at us.

- And where are your girls? They asked, slaying us with their whistling simplicity.

- One walk:

- Are you always alone?

Did the reader see people who would always walk alone? I think that did not see. However, this question was asked without any hint of a joke or irony.

- Yes no: That is, well, in general:

I have not finished my bottle yet and of course, I felt exactly. However, just starting a conversation, I found myself drunk to death. Was it caused by beer, or something else - I know. I fell silent.

Empty-faced nymphets with a look sucked cigarettes and boringly supported Sasha's story about how he rested on the sea.

- Were your girlfriends beautiful? - the reader will ask.

- Of course!

- But why are you bored and mute, Seryozha?

- How to tell you, friends: I just did not see myself next to them. With all my gut, I could not grope at least a thread that would bind us.

- How do you like them? - Sasha asked ten minutes later.

- Nothing beautiful:

We again went to the dance floor.

And again the multicolored lights slid across the black shadows of the clothes. The bright group of those who risked to go to the dance floor began to sparkle again.

- How do you get those in red? - sasha tricked my sleeve.

- Which ones?

- Yes, there: Where are you going to watch!

- One ...

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