... She passed, sweeping over me with the smell of her perfume, familiar to the sweet chill, and, taking another step, stopped in thought - all the places were already occupied. She had to turn around and, noticing my existence, casually inquire: “Do you have freedom? Allow me? ”I could only nod, my throat was still clenching in the last brittle cramps. The pulsating remnants of neuralgic delight were sweetly sucked into the half-dark space of the cabin and the lights of the bus station. The monster, devouring gasoline and kilometers (or vice versa?), Was going, if you believe the schedule - but who believes the dead letters - to deliver us to Pavlovsk. Fenced from the world with smoky glass, the smell of brand new seats and the driver's inflexibility, a passenger was sitting in the place of the N16. He is thirty-five years old and eight months old, he is still sweet. On thick, blue-black hair, the ashes of gray hair are the ashes of the fallen empires of his soul. Two marriages and something else, like a furrow, passed over his face, leaving no chance for a different present. If there was a place to sit, I, being a woman, would not be interested in the place N15. However, she knows better ... And she is sweet ... If not a bitch. Blue, strangely pure-colored eyes, pink earlobe from under flaxen hair, fingers like a princess's. I wonder what princess fingers are like? He goes through newspapers in a stupid plastic bag with large red letters. How much is she - 25, 30, 35? Yeah. Here is some other thick medical journal. "Obstetrics and ..." Damn! I did not have time to ... Read gathered. Well, one thing is clear - the doctor. God forbid me from the wonderful doctors with a red diploma and an empty head ... The bus, filling the thick evening air with trembling, has already turned out onto the Tallinn highway. White axial guided him reliably and tenaciously through the City, and short viscous zigzags only proved the impossibility of changing the path. Well, let the doctor. We could meet on the steps of the clinic, I would go to her ... Um. Judging by the specifics of the magazine, I would hardly go to it. Suppose I would go for help for the pool and face it at the door. Oh, oh! Sorry - what are you! Oh, foot! Broken heel. She is already sitting in my car, let it be a black "Opel-Kadett", we listen to music. We go through the puddles for sausages, no, it's better for champagne for her birthday. I buy her 25 roses on the corner of Moscow and congratulate her, she accepts the offering - I am forgiven and invited. Her name is Natasha, no, let Paul be better. Polinushka, Polly, Pollinka, Po, Pavel, Pavlinochka, Lee - sweet, tender, my berry ... We got married and live in a posh house on Ploshchad Square, and in the summer at a dacha in Pärnu. I finished the courses on ... on ... on sharp intelligence and becoming a successful scholar, no, better than the scriptwriter. The wheels of the "Opel-cadet" polish smooth as the glass highway of Germany, raise the reddish dust of Mexico, crumple the lush green of Australia. Her beautiful fingers are decorated with a blue diamond on the thin rim of platinum - we hate the "red".

Then everything goes even faster. We have two lovely crumbs with wheat hair and crafty dimples on the cheeks. I adore my wife. I condescendingly, but perfectly pass by attracting money, lust, glory of temptations that threaten family happiness. My wife is the height of perfection. A caring mother and a beautiful hostess, faithful and understanding, intolerably sweet and tender on a huge - two by two, no, two by three - sex circle in the bedroom. She has a delicate thin girl's neck, fluff on fragile hands, eyes radiating tenderness, soft velvety skin, elastic girlish breasts with a slightly upturned nipple, like a nose ... However, that's enough, otherwise I’ll probably have to throw one leg over or shift the scarf from the luggage net to your knees. And time is running, the house is a full bowl, grown-up children are the pride of the school, the gray bulk of Pulkovo Heights has swung and starts to go to the right. Fifteen minutes later the bus will freeze and with a hiss will open the door, releasing its prey on the night firing with lights. It's time to wrap up.It is good that we do not live in the Middle Ages. Suddenly her school friend appears, which she almost forgot. She realizes that she cannot live without him. He is unsettled and unintelligent, his career is in a deplorable state, with him she can hardly be happy, but ... Love is evil. He gives her disgusting gold rings and tasteless massive silver shackles-bracelets. We divorce in agreement - it would be better. There are two children in half, an apartment for two, a dacha - like a workshop for me, Opel - for an ex-wife. All the formalities of the divorce behind, the bus is already grumbling and whoosh goes to the square. Still, we had a very good family, I was happy all these years. We managed to raise beautiful children. She treated the sick, I made a talented film. We remember each other with gratitude. And now we met by chance on this bus and, in a second, we will part again forever. Let's go out of the comfortable womb of the frozen metal beast and go in different directions under the disgusting sowing rain. He reliably wash away our tracks.