This story began in nineteen ... the year when Boris Bolshakov was less than nineteen years old.

Brought up on the correct traditions of the builder of communism (with his parents he was on “you”, and with girls without love, “no - no! literature.

In November, the young man showed adherence to principles, appeared at the military enlistment office and declared that he was “probably forgotten” about him.

The military commissars looked at the necessary papers, were surprised at the rare occasion, and gave an unexpected volunteer two days to pack.

At the edge of the Soviet land, on the parade-ground blown by the December winds, the “pre-service hunter” was quickly imbued with respect for pacifism. And when, to the question of the company commander: “Are there any artists among the recruits?” Someone, previously unknown to Bolshakov, showed himself inside him, pushing Boris out of order towards the commander.

Two winter months instead of military training, Private Boris Bolshakov stayed in a warm barracks, painted the “Battle Leaflets” and painted the walls of the Leninist room of a motorized rifle company. It was then that the correct Boris Bolshakov realized that sometimes you can live for the benefit of yourself. So in Bolshakov Boris Petrovich two hypostases were united: the correct “Boris” and the practical “Petrovich”.

To decorate the Lenin's room, material with samples of pictures on an army theme was needed (not to invent them yourself!) The company commander advised Boris to look into the garrison library:

“My wife works there,” said Captain Kalinin, “she will help you find the right magazines.”

The wife of the captain at the time of the appearance in the library of a high soldier, with the help of clerical glue and tracing paper, fastened the pages and spines of book bindings. But I did it “unqualified”, - I found the right word “Boris”. And the tactless “Petrovich” extended his hand to a young and very pretty woman:

- Petrovich!

“Lena,” said the captain's wife, blushing, “embarrassed that her fingers were smeared with dried glue droplets.”

- Trivia! - assured "Petrovich", grabbing a narrow palm. - I, too, like an artist, have hands in paint.

- You are drawing? - Lena guessed, barely freeing her palm from the hand of a soldier.

- And how! - smiled "Petrovich." - I can write your portrait.

- Really? - the librarian led a curved eyebrow.

"Petrovich" pulled boast. He had already opened his mouth, but instead of his self-praise, the serious voice of “Boris” sounded:

- Captain Kalinin - our commander. Allow, comrade Lena, to help you in repairing the library fund?

“Help,” allowed Elena Pavlovna, slightly surprised by such a rapid metamorphosis in the behavior of a soldier. She handed an unexpected assistant a stack of tattered books, scissors, transparent paper and a bottle of glue. - I am sure that you know how to apply with a brush as an “artist”.

“I didn’t believe that I can draw,” guessed Boris. He was embarrassed for the boasting of Petrovich.

Strengthening the pages, next to the captain's wife, Bolshakov secretly admired the face and figure of a young woman.

And the company’s wife was really good! Dark brown hair fell in a wavy cascade on the sloping shoulders, highlighting the delicate pinkness of Elena Pavlovna's round face. Swollen lips and a slightly snub nose gave out the capricious nature of the hostess and reminded Bolshakov of the heroine from the movie “Wedding in Robin”. He compared his big eyes with the blue of mountain lakes, and he could look at a high female breast, gently lifting up under a knitted sweater after every breath, forever.

Alas.Elena Pavlovna intercepted quick shoals, young men, he blushed and pretended that she was not considering her, but the library room, while she sees the mistress as if in passing.

To the delight of Bolshakov, the room was in disrepair. Whitewashing in places crumbled. The corners of the walls were dusty. Window cornices held on parole. Shelving waiting painting. The stands of visual agitation are outdated, faded and demanded the intervention of the artist-designer. The latter was significant for Bolshakov.

- Do you like what you see? - asked Elena Pavlovna, who had to taste the embarrassment of the soldier, who blushed so sweetly.

Taken aback, "Boris" did not immediately understand what the woman meant. And since, turning to the voice, he saw in front of him a doll-like face with cornflower-blue eyes, he sincerely replied:

- Yes, like it!

- Like what is all this condition? - did not check Elena Pavlovna.

“She is talking about the premise,” Bolshakov realized, completely lost.

And Elena Pavlovna, seeing how the soldier’s face was covered with red spots, interpreted it in her own way and, with a sigh, said that she had taken a library management just a week ago and doesn’t even know what to start with in order to put the library in proper order .

“I would hold you by the chest,” thought Petrovich, and finally finished off the correct Boris.

“I can take it,” said Boris, trying to look only into the blue eyes of Dreams, “for the decoration of the library.” Until citizen worked in a construction company. I am able to draw. Write different fonts. I like to read books, and to be near them ...

- Yeah. I know who you want to live near! - giggled "Petrovich."

“Only for this you need the permission of the company commander,” finished his phrase “Boris.”

- You will get it! What is your name, comrade soldier? ..

...

... At a family dinner, Lena told her husband about the problems at the new place of work and called the name of Boris Bolshakov.

- Private Bolshakov? - Captain Kalinin asked. “I asked for your library today for a selection of sketches for a wall mural.”

- A very shy young man. At first he declared that he was almost an artist, and then, as it seemed to me, he almost burned with shame and was ready to refuse this recognition.

- Really good draws. Why are you interested in this?

- I want to beg for repair and design of the library.

- I myself need Bolshakov. He draws a Lenin room.

- Well, dear! If you had seen the condition in which I got the library!

- I have seen. Raskardash and disorder.

- Here! You yourself admit that in such conditions your wife is not supposed to work.

- I can send someone else.

- This “other” can draw, write posters, loves books, has builder skills and is so shy that I can, without any problems, lead them?

- Hmm ... Not sure.

- You see. And whoever, I do not need! - Lena pressed against her husband's shoulder. - Well, at least a couple of hours a day. BUT?

“For a couple of hours, you can,” the captain surrendered. - For more do not seek.

- Daily! - Lena set the condition.

“At least on weekends.” But, if there is nothing extreme, - said Captain Kalinin. And he was rewarded for his compliant grateful wife with a promising kiss ...

...

... Bolshakov could not sleep. He was thinking about a librarian. He recalled the face that had come to his heart and envied Captain Kalinin. And then “Petrovich” was activated: “Can you imagine what our cap is doing with his wife now?”

"Boris" represented, but resisted. I didn't want to go down to the level of Petrovich.

And he did not let up. He spoke, fantasized and achieved that the young fighter on Lenochka had a stand-up. Yes, such that even on the back do not lie down - the relief of a mini tent blanket reminds.

What kind of dream is there with a good riser?

And they started two opposites among themselves a quiet argument. “Petrovich” the captain’s words remind us: “I’d like to hold on!”

- Throw these intelligent troubles! After all, you are worth it!

"Boris" only sighed. For the defense against the arguments of Petrovich, his trench of the contender turned out to be too small.

- Why sigh in vain! ...