All vestibules in trains, regardless of the classiness of cars, trains, directions are equally cold, lonely and smell like dolban. This smell, as it is not corroded, steadfastly clings to the metal walls and floors. After two or three hours, it reappears, how not to wash, how not to saturate the water with additives, air with aerosols. Or does it just smell like a road? By which we all move, as in life, separately, each with its own end point? Only on the road you know, almost always, where are you moving, and in life, go guess where you come? So I thought, standing in the vestibule, enabling neighbors in the second-class carriage number six to accumulate for disembarking at the station. The stop is short - only six minutes, but here you need to unload, without losing anything, and to load into the car with new passengers still not knowing where which car will stop. At the end of this line was a girl, calmly and even impassively watching all this. I noted to myself that such a young girl, with such legs, seductively wrapped in leggings, travels to such distances alone, and in a second-class carriage. It said that she was not a timid one.

My trip back to the city happened suddenly. Arrangement in the hut, in which they did not live for a long time, was an interesting affair. Bought in the Upper ax, saw, plane, nails, hammer, nail puller, pliers were very, very helpful. After completing the shock work on Saturday in the black-style bathhouse, which hid from my eyes at the very end of this small island farm, I lay down to rest, but inside me a thin pain flashed through the thought “I must go back.” I sat down on the bed, I waited a bit, and suddenly it just hurts because of tiredness. But the thought intensified. I usually have this - a sense of danger does not arise, but thoughts come. And it is better to listen to these thoughts. Therefore, on Sunday morning, having seized the documents and crossed over to the shore, I pulled through the forest to Sukovka, which turned out to be a fairly large village with a beautiful name, completely opposite to its nickname. True, agreeing on the supply to the station, I understood why there, in the depths of this boundless forest, they called this village that way. But no matter how, after three days I went up in the elevator to my apartment on the ninth floor, knowing what had to be done first.

Someone was in the apartment. Women's slippers, a coat, a jacket, boots, some kind of cosmetic bag on the mirror, a calendar with silly motorcycles, and also water in the bathroom roared. Having pulled out a traumatic pistol, I slipped into a large room, from where I could control everything — the rooms, the corridor, the kitchen. There was only this woman in the house. I sat on the chair, covered the injury of the hollow jacket, and waited for this mermaid to buy. Unaware of my presence, she was humming something in the bathroom, blocking the sound of water. A girl, about eighteen years old, is no more, judging by her voice. So I decided to enjoy her voice. And what could I do? Breaking into the bathroom - "Everyone stand! Criminal police! Going out with your hands up? ”It's funny.

She came out of the bathroom in complete relaxation - naked, with a turret of towels on her head. Rubbing her eyes, she walked past me to a large mirror that had moved from the bedroom to the large room. Hmm, I appreciated the figure, but with age I missed it - probably twenty-five years or so.She calmly looked in the mirror, looking for something important on her face, and then pulled a jar of cream. In the same second, the jar slammed across the floor, she rushed to run, but squeezed, covering with her eternal feminine values ​​- the chest, figuredly cropped pubis.

- Who are you? - She grabbed the air, seeing that I was sitting on the chair, rubbing the barrel of a pistol on his knee.

- And you? - I smiled wryly. I did not see such a white woman. Besides the fact that her skin is white, and fear even more bleached her. - I fit to ask the question - who are you, what are you doing here, how did you get here !? - I have a little heavier voice. - Can you give answers?

- I? - She, seeing her reflection in the glass of the slide, the great love of my ex, shrank even more. - I?

“You have a towel on your head with which you can close and sit down.” - Let's see how to turn out. My words calmed her down a bit. Turning away, she pulled the towel off her head, casting glances over my shoulder at me. Turning around, the woman sat down on the sofa as a model, slightly on the edge, turning her legs to one side. Well, so what. She is not devoid of a sense of modesty, does not want to show a hip, looking out between the diverging edges of the towel, covers her chest, lower abdomen, pressing the towel with her hand. The second hand held onto the armrest. In case she needed acceleration while fleeing from me.

- My name is Tatyana. - She stopped.

- Yes? - I made surprised. - And it's all?

- And who are you?

- Here I ask questions! - Strictness in her voice crushed her. It is seen not very much her life ruffled. - I am the owner of this apartment and I have the right to know who washes in my house, hangs up stupid motorcycles before nailing on the spot or handing over the police! And splashes the floor with cream!

- I'll clean. - Biting her lips, she flicked her eyes, as if looking for something salutary, something that would help solve this situation.

- Of course. Who would doubt that. How did you get here?

- I? - Hmm, she is not adequate at all.

- Do you make coffee? - I hid the gun.

- Yes.

- Put on a bathrobe, go to the kitchen and make coffee. Himself and me. After all, you have not had breakfast?

- Yes. - She struggled up, holding the towel to herself.

- I spend you.

- What for? - The surprise was genuine.

- So that you would not have the temptation, after returning from the bedroom, sprinkle me in the face with some filth and run away. - I nodded to her - go to the bedroom. - After all, then I will have to shoot at you. - She got close. - And I shoot, do not hesitate.

The bedroom was still the same, only the linen was different. What was good. It was not enough to use my laundry!

The story was both sad and funny. Funny, because I broke into the private life of a girl named Tatyana and my partner. In my absence, he hadn’t thought of anything better than to put this non-apartment, visiting beauty, the former administrator of some modeling agency into my apartment. You see the apartment look after. And the sad thing about this situation was that the girl, having gotten out of her own kind of flywheel, where the devil knew what she was working on, got a job here as an administrator at a model agency. Although she herself had to get a model. And when once again the owner was arrested for his criminal addiction in the form of selling girls somewhere further in Belarus, the agency ordered everyone to live long, dissolving along with money, passports and everything else that was in the tables of workers. And at that moment a partner appeared, who joined up on such an excellent job. For which he receives payment in the form of sex.

- And where should I go? - She bit her lips, restraining herself. - Back to yourself? Well, I can't go there anymore! I can not! - Tears welled up, ran to the edges of the eyes.

- Hmm, I see. - She knew how to make coffee. - Mom taught to cook?

- Yes. - She brushed away tears, the corner of his little finger. - She was such a coffee machine. I was looking for recipes, I wrote out magazines. Even this book was made up with recipes.

- This is called a hobby. - In my head, suddenly, like a devil from a box, a plan jumped out. For a long time I have not had the opportunity to get compromising on a partner.His wife is a girl of parents, from whom it is better to stay away. If anything, he just screwed the thread, and then polished. And it had to be used. So!

- Listen, do you want an apartment? One room. On the outskirts, but its? - I always have that. I do it right there without getting involved in a long siege, if there is such a possibility.

- What for? - Um, the question is right.

- He loves you very much in the form of a strict lady? - Whip, latex skirt, seen in the bedroom pushed me in this direction, serving as the launching mechanism for the entire scam. ...