Epigraph

"Friends!

This is a very philosophical continuation of relations with Inna. And if you have long waited for a denouement, then you are welcome! If you heard about Inna for the first time, then I fear you might just be bored, because the sequel is very long and lengthy.

Enjoy reading!"

The summer sun slowly crept up to the balcony in the bedroom and looked out the window. I frowned in disgust and turned to the other side. The room was still cool, but the sun's rays were already warming the air, exaggerating the air. I once again regretted that I did not hang the curtains, leaving only tulle on the window, which was clearly losing in the fight against the sun's rays. For a while, thick curtains could save me. I opened my eyes and listened - only the quiet nightingale trills broke the unusual morning silence of the Sabbath. Neither the hum of cars, nor the "washing up of neighbors' bones" by neighbors.

A hand reached for the phone that lay near the pillow - the clock showed it was fifteen seven. Only fifteen minutes separated me from the very nasty alarm bell, thanks to which even the dead would have risen from the grave. Not wanting to wait for a peal, I turned off the alarm and slid off the bed. A slight shiver ran through my body. No, not from the morning chill, but from a future meeting. It was as if everything had returned thirteen years ago, when the young heart was quivering with hopes and timid fantasies before meeting with one girl.

I went out to the loggia and opened the window wide that stood on the airing. A warm summer breeze blew softly into my face, crawling into the apartment, playing with curtains and picking up sketches from the chest of drawers. For the first time in several months, a sincere smile began to play on my face. Not from great joy, not from universal happiness, but from what is simply good. I didn’t need to hurry anywhere, I still had enough time to get ready and go to the station to meet Inna.

I walked out of the bedroom and habitually flopped behind the laptop. I wanted to add some light and fun music to the morning nirvana. And after a couple of minutes, the sounds of a famous melody crawled around the corners of the apartment. I smiled, looking out the window - it seemed that the trees that swayed in the wind, did it in time with the music.

I was overwhelmed by some wave of childishness, forcing me to do stupidities not characteristic of adults and respected people, and I, jumping up and down on one foot and then on the other foot and singing to myself under my nasal voice, went to the kitchen for a portion of coffee.

An old electric kettle has long been outlived, but I somehow got used to it already. Even the fact that he had a broken lid and had to draw water through the spout did not make me buy a new one. Typing at the very top of the water, I sat down at the table and again looked out the window. Only one question tormented me: what does today's day prepare for me? I crossed my fingers for good luck - I really wanted the whole day to go as well as the morning began ...

The kettle puffed up, shivered and clicked, notifying everyone that he had done his task this time. A half-liter cup, a teaspoon of instant coffee and three teaspoons of sugar. Here is the recipe for the perfect coffee in my recipe. The melody that sounded from the room changed its tone, moving to the next audio track.

I took a sip of coffee and for a moment held it in my mouth, giving the receptors to fully feel the light bitterness and the pleasant sweetness of the drink. The remnants of sleep evaporated with a second sip, and the air around was filled with the aroma of almost natural coffee. A barely noticeable draft caught him and carried him far beyond the apartment, to meet a new summer day.

Five minutes later, I had a traditional morning coffee ritual.Then everything is according to the old schedule - a cool shower, brushing your teeth and choosing clothes. Having gathered and standing already in the corridor in front of the mirror, I froze for a moment - it was so unusual to look at my smiling face, it seemed that it was someone else. Someone whom I haven’t seen for a long time ... Having put on my sneakers, I picked up a backpack, car keys and a bag of trash and left the apartment.

Silence reigned at the entrance - all the neighbors still either slept after a stormy Friday, or because it was a holiday. Haha I quietly, as far as the slightly locking lock allowed, locked the apartment with a key and ran down the steps. The elevator worked fine, but I still preferred to walk - it was extremely useful for someone (namely me).

The house entrance and the walkway along it were hiding in the shade of the trees, so coming out of the entrance I breathed in with relief while the air was still cool - it was stuffy at the entrance because of the neighbors who were constantly closing the windows for fear of a draft. Solovyov was no longer audible, but the silence that reigned was no less a beautiful melody. How many such beautiful morning moments I slept? Even dog lovers and those who have not yet come out for a morning walk.

I threw a bag of trash in the trash can and I ran across the street to the little shop that was selling flowers almost around the clock. A half-asleep saleswoman gave me a friendly nod as I entered through the door. Here, the choice of colors was small, but I was not particularly worried. After all, there were those flowers that I always liked to buy for girls - red velvet roses, with large fleshy buds and a delicious aroma. Always fresh and luxurious, they could stand in a vase for a week and fade only slightly, as if emphasizing the sincerity of the person’s feelings that he had presented such a luxurious bouquet.

Seven beautiful flowers are packed in a bouquet, and a crisp bill is sent to the pocket of the saleswoman. I brought the bouquet to my face and inhaled, and as if I was transported ten years ago when I first bought such a bouquet ... When she saw my delight at the bouquet, the saleswoman smiled wearily:

- I sincerely and kindly envy the girl who will be presented with this bouquet. I would not refuse such a gift myself ...

Picking up a bouquet, I left the store and headed for the parking lot. There was no emergency in the car - it was easy to get to the station on foot and by public transport, but today something was pushing me to take the car and drive through the morning city.

The sun was rising ever higher, and the morning coolness gave way to a hot summer day. Having slipped under the protection of concrete slabs, I plunged into the parking - half-asleep, like a saleswoman, the guard nodded to me as I passed by him. In the far corner of the parking lot, among the business class cars, stood my old Ford.

“It would not hurt to wash it,” I thought, looking at the dusty doors of the car. - Although not ... It's still early ... ".

The car obediently started up, and while the engine was warming up from days of idleness, I breathed in once again the scent of a luxurious bouquet, from which my heart began to beat even more. It seemed to me that time had returned to twenty years ago, when it first fell in love, when Pushkin’s lines, heard in a literature class, first touched the strings of the soul, and did not pass by soulless phrases past:

"... And the heart beats in ecstasy,

And for him resurrected again

And deity, and inspiration,

And life, and tears, and love. "

Not wanting to succumb to minute weakness, I used the usual movement to turn on the reverse gear and leave the parking lot. At the exit, the same half-asleep guard took my pass and opened the barrier. The day had already started and shimmered with bright colors, but there were still no people. Several "speed bumps", and the car goes on a wide road. Here you can give Ford the “gas” so that it “shakes its bones”.

A crossroads behind a crossroads - some kind of inner impatience pushes forward, makes you hurry to meet Ina, as if I might not have time ...Around the air is saturated with a variety of flavors, which only the city center can boast - fresh vanilla pastries, flower shops and the scent of freshly cut grass. Employees of public services have almost finished cleaning the streets and are in a hurry to hide from the scorching sun in the service vehicles.

Not wanting to stand in traffic jams at the railway station itself, I, as always, stopped the car for the quarter ...