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My porch has a small concrete bed in which flowers never grew, but there were always a lot of cigarette butts lying around. A sort of big ashtray, in the middle of which, with a caring hand, a dry poplar branch was stuck in someone's caring hand into the cracked earth. Presumably, for beauty ... And today, returning home at half past midnight, I noticed from afar that on this flowerbed in the midst of all this magnificence, in the dim light of a lonely street lamp, there is a kind of limp body. The body is ...
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Three long years between two phone calls. That call was her farewell. Then her voice was philosophically calm and detached. With his calm, he pressed. Calm means the final decision. It seemed that this her voice was material, that he, getting out of the speaker of the telephone, penetrates into the brain and tears it to pieces. And breaking, still crumpling shreds.
Of course, they did not part by phone, but before that, eyes in the eyes, but Oleg remembered this particular call more. Last point ...
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Of course, they did not part by phone, but before that, eyes in the eyes, but Oleg remembered this particular call more. Last point ...
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- Yes-aa ... Not that man went, not that ... - Xenia was lying on my stomach with my hands, supporting her chin with a palm. With the fingers of the other hand, she, not very gently, tugged at my wilted nature, which clearly did not want to give signs of life.
- Do you have a conscience? - I was outraged. - For an incomplete hour three times, and you also require the fourth?
- Yes, here, however, demand, do not demand ... - Xenia drawled out, critically examining her object ...
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- Do you have a conscience? - I was outraged. - For an incomplete hour three times, and you also require the fourth?
- Yes, here, however, demand, do not demand ... - Xenia drawled out, critically examining her object ...
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I slept soundly and dreamlessly, and woke up only by two o'clock in the afternoon. Zhanna, of course, was at work. I checked the phone - no one called. He lay still ten minutes in bed, remembering the events of the previous night. Conscience reminded of itself painful poke somewhere in the chest. Before Zhanka, of course, is to blame ... Well, if conscience "pokes" in the chest, then at least it is. Well, or some of its remnants. Remains of the former luxury ...
In the bathroom, he peered into his mirror for a long time ...
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In the bathroom, he peered into his mirror for a long time ...
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- What a good night tonight! - Ksenia Alexandrovna's eyes flashed in the light of a street lamp, and a slight smile ran through her lips. She easily rose from the old sofa that stood on our balcony, stretched her arms up, stretched, stood on tiptoes. - I don’t even want to leave this place. - Who makes you leave here? - I asked, putting out a cigarette butt in an ashtray. “I can bring champagne here.” - Bring, be a friend, Sash. - She is...
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