not him. You.
He even retreated a step when, in one motion, I freed my hair, letting them fall on my shoulders, shook my head so that they would scatter… They are still beautiful, right? Like before. Where is… Where did I put it? Here it is. He looked distractedly at what I handed to him, shook his head and whispered.
— Do not.
The silence thickened even more around us, involuntarily catching the sounds of the street, if a car drove up is not audible. My husband, wait … Just wait a bit, give us a few more minutes. I took a step forward without giving up.
— You want this and I want it. Do it yourself, — I smiled and winked, — just be careful, don't take too many. Here it will be unnoticeable.
He tried to smile back and carefully picked up the small scissors, our fingers flinched as they touched. I bowed my head, felt a timid touch, God… We seemed to perform some ancient ritual. I bit my lip, it's good that he does not see my face. How nice that I now do not see his face. Do not. Scissors blades clicked faintly, I lifted my head. A curl of my hair in his hand.
— Give me.
A light blue narrow ribbon wrapped a curl, slowly tied it with a butterfly knot. He silently watched, biting his lip in the same way as I had a moment ago.
— Here.
He looked at him for several long moments, I handed a small envelope… Goodbye, my Guest… Goodbye, my…
— Can I take them?
— No, leave it to me — I want to remember too.
I held out my hand, he put the scissors in my palm, our fingers touched once again. Last time.
I did not offer a ride, did not ask where he was staying. Not asked for a mailing address. I only know the name. He disappeared around the bend of the street. Never looked back. Goodbye. I touched the spot where he cut the curl. When he held it in his hand, I saw that he was struggling with the desire to bring it to face, to inhale the smell. I know that he will do it later. Tears filled my eyes, wiped them with a quick movement. We will remember each other. Forever.
Tears sprang to my eyes… Here it is, a turn, behind which her unexpected guest disappeared. How unusual and strange it was to see everything from the side, as if a mischievous thought came true and for that story someone made a picture. But where is the inscription "The end"? It will not be? What else will be shown? Subsequent life? Leaving and marriage of the daughter… Then the son healed his life. The death of her husband… She was with him and held his hand when he left. Long, long fourteen years in a quiet, empty house. Does she want to see it? Not. And it seems that the unknown force that has unfolded a whole life in front of her agrees.
Fingers squeezed the glass, she drank the rest of the water in it in one gulp, looked around. The carafe is empty. Scorching thirst receded, it was replaced by an ever-increasing subtle ringing in the ears, the heart suddenly gave an interruption, then another one… The son warned. Let be! She killed herself now, but it was worth it! If she didn’t get up, if she didn’t go to the window, if she didn’t find the strength, she wouldn’t be given her life again, she wouldn’t have been able to see, hear, feel… Exchange it for some more days or even weeks on air mattress? A quiet stubborn whisper — no. No! The heartbeat is getting stronger, faster, the drumming louder in her ears, breathing has gone, she staggered, squeezed her fingers on the sill with all her might. Go back to the bed, press a button, call for help… No! Not. It seemed to her that these words she had shouted directly into the black sky, which was covered with the twinkling patterns of the constellations. The sun had set on the fields and night covered the garden. How hard it is to breathe, how scary… So this moment has come. Now she is ready. But what is it?
Suddenly everything around was lighted up with a bright festive light, everything disappeared in it's invincible radiance — the house, the room… Where is it? What with her? The pain disappeared, the breathing calmed down, the heart… It still pounding, but — exactly, strongly, quickly. She is just worried. Very worried, because now…
“What about singing, Patsy?”
Lord… She shuddered when she heard this romping cry from above, from the gallery. Patsy? Her name is different. This is not her name, so called… Gallery? Where did it come from? Who is this tall, broad-shouldered man leaning toward her, leaning heavily on the railing with his large, loaded hands? He is dressed in a tuxedo, a snow-white shirt is visible, but… It is evident that the man usually use completely different clothes, simple, working. Understanding came — he borrowed it all somewhere or rented to come here. He came to listen to her, look at her. Support and encourage her. She is scared… Why? Is it at her age to afraid of something? How old is she? The thought stumbled, reality and memories mixed up. She looked around… The bright light of searchlights, a lot of people, the glitter of jewels and glasses of theatrical binoculars. She need to say something… Oh… She forgot her cue, forgot the role. What to do? How bad…
— This is no longer a movie, you do not play a role. Everything is now for real. Do not be afraid… You're among friends, forever.
What? Who said this? She turned sharply. And she pressed her hand to her mouth. It does
