Dear readers! You can put your assessment of the favorite story on the forum in special voting form according to the principle “one story - one vote”. Enjoy reading!

Story number 1 "Reflection"

I can not stand the rain. Although earlier, I probably liked him. But not now. They say he cleans everything - people, city, thoughts. For me, it is only an obstacle. It slows me down, distracts me. Driven by his chaos and irregularity. Makes me jealous. Makes me want to be as free as he is.

- Well, now you are free. You wanted this, didn't you? - A cool female voice pulled me out of my thoughts. The brunette in a gray raincoat gave me a penetrating look and waited for an answer.

I sighed heavily, and pulled on a cigarette. It is good that the courthouse has such comfortable visors, otherwise my cigarette would be as wet as my shoes now.

- No, Marie, I can not say that I wanted it. So the circumstances, and I did not want to keep you close to me.

“You could let me help you,” she looked at me with ill-disguised excitement. Even now, when almost nothing binds us, she does not lose hope of speaking to me.

- You're not my wife. No longer. I did what I had to do. I'm not happy about it, but so right.

- Since when do you do what is right? And for whom is it right? For you? Sadness reappeared in her voice. The one that I felt all last year, returning home in the morning, with bruises all over my body, smelling of gunpowder and blood.

- For us. I know you can't live like this anymore. And I can't tell you what you want to know.

- You constantly told me that. What happened to you then ... - she did not ask. She knew that I would not answer. But perhaps part of it still hoped that it was some kind of deception, a game. Now we are divorced, for the sake of her protection, and I can tell her everything. But I can not. I love her too much.

I threw the still smoldering cigarette in the urn, and stepped into the rain.

- Farewell Marie. I hope someday you can forgive me.

I felt her gaze on myself, while slowly I walked down the street. My hair was wet, my glasses were covered with drops of moisture, and I once again regretted that they did not release glasses with the wipers.

We need to collect thoughts, make a plan.

I came across the sign "Bar Tamerlane." It's funny how many years I live in this city, bars come across to me quite often, but I have never been to them. Why not? I pushed the door and found myself in a spacious room. I pulled off my leather jacket and threw it on my shoulder. On the way to the bar I glanced around. Lots of space, big stage near the bar. Probably, concerts are held here from time to time. Pustovato, though, who drinks in the afternoon? Probably those whose life was in limbo, like mine.

Having flopped on a high chair, I put a five hundred ruble bill on the counter.

- Zero five dark, to your taste.

The bartender gave me an indifferent look.

- Eighteen eat?

- It was. Eighteen years ago, ”I grunted, lighting a cigarette.

- An interesting answer - nodded a man with a red beard, standing behind the bar, pouring me a beer.

Respite All I wanted at this moment is a breather. A sip of cold beer, a puff, a minute to collect your thoughts. I sighed and leaned back in my chair.

The man behind the desk turned away to get the bottle off the shelf, and I reached into my pocket. It seemed to me that sms came to my phone. None other than one of my friends in a hurry to congratulate with the divorce, and greet in the ranks of bachelors.

Perhaps this movement is a slight tilt to the left, and saved my life. A wide knife blade entered the chair, just to the right of my shoulder. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I re-opened, I completely gave control to my instincts.The bottle on the table in a smooth motion moved behind my back, where I met my opponent facing the glass.

And rushed to the floor, it is logical to assume that the attacker did not come alone. And there is. Two men, strong build, in strict suits. The one who had the knife fell on one knee and grabbed his head. The second is already reaching for a gun, on a holster under a jacket. But I am faster, and my revolver has already lit a fire in the pocket hell.

"Suit" bag falls to the floor. I do not give to come to my senses the second, and with the spent movement I shoot again. Bam! The second one is also ready, and I, grunting, rise to my feet. Pure luck. I lost my guard, but these guys acted too carelessly. Perhaps I still have time to get to the apartment, and take a couple of useful gizmos. I turned to the counter to find out how the bartender was there, and then another shot rang out. The red-haired man was still standing behind the counter, only now a short-barreled shotgun rested in his hands like a predatory beast. My temple responded with burning pain. I put my hand to it, targeting the hapless shooter. So there is blood.

“Give it to me,” I nodded at the shotgun, “it's not yours.” Beer you pour much better. Disperse in a good way. For now.

Taking his weapon from him, I went out into the rain. Having hidden the shotgun under my jacket, I hastily moved towards the house. I didn’t notice anything suspicious, although I checked carefully if there was a tail for me and I didn’t wait for an ambush ahead of me.

Just closing the door behind me, I was able to breathe a sigh of relief. I have time. Quite a bit, but there is. I undressed, and leaving all the things in the hallway, went into the living room. The fingers themselves lay on the secret button by the fireplace, and part of the bookcase slid smoothly to one side. A secret room met me with steel calm and plastic determination. When I reached out to one of the rifles hanging on the wall, a bell rang in the hallway. I froze.

Epilogue

Damn alarm clock! Every time I get the feeling that he is calling earlier, deliberately trying to make me angry. If I had my way, I would not leave this cozy bed all day. But the study did not go away, and the evil beast Monday came into its own. I sat on the edge of the bed, and thought how interesting I had a dream. It is a pity, he broke off at the most interesting place. There was a languid sigh from behind.

I turned around and began to enjoy the beauty of the naked girl, who was comfortably seated on my bed, with pleasure.

“How did you sleep, Marie?” - I asked gently

The girl reached out and slowly opened her eyes.

- Well! I would not get up, so nice to lie ...

I turned to her, intending to make the morning at least a little nicer, ran my hand over her thigh. The girl smiled and looked at me. At that very moment, anxiety appeared in her eyes.

- Dim, and what about your face? Did you cut yourself?

- Where? - I jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror.

- Over there, left!

From reflection, a handsome young man looked at me, barely at the age of eighteen. Disheveled hair, frown, bruises under the eyes, from frequent lack of sleep. That sleepless nights behind a pile of textbooks, then a sweet lack of sleep like today, with Marinka. The only thing that did not fit into the usual mirror image is a thin, not yet healed cut on the left temple.

...