Breeze [Short Fiction]

in fiction •  7 years ago 

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She stood on the edge of the rock, forgetting about everything. Behind her, through the endless fields, the road stretched monotonously, and who knows if it had an end. And ahead opened a serene blue sky, underlined by the green stripe of an old forest. She could look into this distance forever. A strong gust of wind ripped a flax hat from her head, the same as a dress, and carried it to the unknown. She was surprised at first, but then she laughed. She threw her arms out to the sides, inhaling fresh air and covering her eyes.

That's what it meant for her to be free. All around - every ray of the sun, the noise of the forest, the smell of grass, the sweep of the bird's wing - all this was woven into a harmonious, jeweled work of the canvas of the world. And here she felt that she was a small, but still a part of this magical canvas.

He sat in his office, propped his head in his hand and held a lighted cigarette between his fingers. On the table lay a few dusty stacks of unsigned papers and unread letters. All this now seemed alien to him, pressing obligations and unsolved problems. He got up, walked to the bar, splashed into a glass of expensive whiskey. The amber liquid reminded her eyes. He took a sip, remembered the coast and walks, drained the glass and filled it again. Now he did not even understand why he was drinking. Either wanting to drown out memories, or because he suddenly realized how much he got stuck in the routine of everyday life. He again sank into a deep leather chair, closing his eyes.

I'm happy that you're here.
She smiled.
Stay with me.
She fixed her eyes on the sea.
I do not want.

Previously it seemed that everything is possible, he could easily implement any whim. But here he is - heaps down his failures, cherishing the broken heart. But just a week ago, before him, hospitably opened the door to life full of impressions and desires. Most recently, holding hands, slowly walked barefoot on the wet sand, and she talked about all the places she visited. Getting to know her forever will remain in his soul, like a picture from a summer holiday, on which happiness is embodied.

And now he returned to the beginning again.

That day it was hot, but to remove the jacket, bored for a long time, it was forbidden. He was sitting on a bench near the main entrance of a large firm, smoking one cigarette after another, worrying that the deal of his life was on the verge of collapse. She appeared before him like a midday mirage. From one of her kind everything became not so serious. He frowned, she smiled and held out her hand. In his memory, forever struck nothing unremarkable, but such a warm, clear and fresh, like a light breeze, "Hello".


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