Gu Dasom thought that nothing was more disastrous than going on a holiday with her best friend - Namjoon. She was wrong. Living with him - now best friend turned boyfriend - was way more disastrous.
♦ Characters: boyfriend!Namjoon x girlfriend!OC (Gu Dasom)
♦ Genre: comedy, fluff, slice of life, established relationship (it’s all sfw)
♦ Words: 4.5k
♦ Warning: -
♦ A/N: This is a sequel to my story called Disastrous which is about the first holiday Namjoon and Dasom spend together on their own (and it turns out to be disastrous, needless to say), but the two stories can be read separately, so don’t worry if you haven’t read it! 💖💖💖
Gina had just arrived to Britechester to visit her cousin Valeria whom was studying there. Her cousin’s apartment was an absolute mess and even though Gina hated chaos and messy stuff she loved that about her rebel cousin.
The young woman wasn’t planning on staying too long but as soon as she got there she absolutely fell in love with the university city and to be able to attend uni was always a big dream of hers but living in the country side with her grandma did not left her many options as she had little to any financial possibilities but then she saw that she could apply for a scholarship and she immediatly did so. Gina opened up her laptop while she waited for Valeria to come back from work and applied for a scholarship and all she had to do now was to wait for a response.
Aighty! I’m finally starting a gameplay! Btw this beautiful lot was made by @goldenhour-s for one of my stories like months ago but sadly its not very gameplay friendly so in the future i’ll be moving Gina to a different house as soon as she gets the scholarship and finds a job hehe I’m super excited about this tbh and yall know i also have a background story planned for this, just wait for it thehe
Among my lack of muse and attempts to reign my brain in and focus on one project, I have come up with this! I was inspired by a prompt I found here on Tumblr a couple months ago involving physical contact and decided to write some drabbles for it. Mainly to give me a chance in writing other characters and other ships that I haven’t really focused on in the other HLVRAI fics I’ve written.
I will be posting the finalized drabbles in chunks here on Tumblr, but I am also going to link to the story on Archive of Our Own for those who want to read it there chapter by chapter.
I’m struggling with LOVE lately. Not the concept of LOVE, necessarily, that I grasp, but I’m struggling with putting LOVE into action. My daughter turned six months old last week. She was born the week that lockdown measures went into effect in my area. They have only been partially lifted six months later. But I keep seeing more and more people on social media going to parties, meeting up with people from outside their household, taking cheek to cheek pictures with maskless friends - as if we aren’t still in a global pandemic. It’s been so hard for me to have loving thoughts when I see these images. It’s been so hard for me to let my life lead with LOVE.
One of the things I’ve discovered about myself as I’ve dived more deeply into studying my personality is how prone I am to thinking everyone around me is stupid. Even as I sit here typing this the thought that popped into my head was “I am prone to thinking that because it’s true.” When we had watched Hamilton recently on Disney+ one of the songs that really jumped out at me is when Burr is singing of Hamilton: “Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?” It’s followed by the line “soon that attitude may be your doom.” It really forced me to stop and think about my propensity to assign stupidity to others. This habit doesn’t lend itself well to LOVE.
The thing about this pandemic is that I am following the news, reading the updated guidelines, tracking the latest statistics. As doctors and researchers learn more about this virus, I want to learn more about it too so that I can stay informed and make sound decisions for my family. And so when I watch all of these people living life the old way because they’re bored it makes me so angry. When I’m angry, it’s hard to let my life lead with LOVE.
The first time I ever saw a counselor, it was in college at the free student counseling center. Graduate students were able to get their practicum hours by offering free sessions to undergraduate students. It was back when I was really, really struggling to identify my emotions and so my counselor gave me a piece of paper with a “feeling wheel” on it. When she asked me “how did that make you feel?” she would force me to use the wheel to identify my emotions. It was very helpful for me. In that process I learned that anger itself is not an emotion but is rather a response to another emotion. I’ve been trying to think about what emotion I am actually feeling when I see these people who are making me so angry. I guess it’s frustration. I’m frustrated that my daughter is six months old and I can hardly take her out of the house (thank goodness we’re not in an apartment anymore, then she NEVER left the house). I’m frustrated that even with all of the information we’ve been provided about how we can concur COVID-19, I’m still seeing people ignore that information because they miss their normal lives. I’m frustrated because of the selfishness… don’t you think I miss my normal life, too? Don’t you think I, too, had big plans for the year?
So now I’m left asking myself how I can turn all of this emotion into LOVE. How can I let my word for the year do its work in the midst of all of this turmoil? How can I let LOVE win over my anger?
I’m sorry I think that you’re stupid. (Really, I am sorry. That’s not sarcasm.)
Vitalina is a 15 year old girl who was born with the ability to see and to communicate with ghosts. She likes to explore abandoned houses and “hunt” ghosts. But she isn’t alone, Aiden, the spirit of her cousin, is always with her, making sure she doesn’t get hurt.
It’s been a few days since their friend, Newt, disappeared. He was to go to the homecoming with them, but he never arrived.
Aleksi and Liv didn’t lost their hopes for finding Newt but the police told them they didn’t find any clue, only they found Newt’s glasses.
After a few days they find what could be a clue. They found a monster that could be responsable for Newt’s disappearance.
There are some days, where the world is silent. Even the flap of a bird’s traveling wings are unheard. The sky outside is empty. Everything is. In this misery that you find yourself in, it’s funny to think that someone out there, could be the happiest on your most miserable day. The world will continue to spin its own continuum, spiraling to wherever it is that it is headed.
She didn’t want to hear her name. Because in truth, the world didn’t want her to hear at all. Rays of the last fading sunlight shifted through the window, casting shadows around the room. A soft breeze entered the room suddenly and goosebumps passed up her arm.
The door to her room opened, and the creaking of the floorboards was ignored. Caia blinked at the world outside her window, lost in thoughts. Her form stiffed at the touch of a hand. However her hand instinctively moved to her ear, turning off its sound. Caia would not turn around to try to read lips. She knew that it was rude to ignore. But it was better than having to pretend that she heard.
Silence was a new acquaintance to her. It tainted her world with its mere presence, something that she couldn’t escape. Human beings who have once reached an obstacle, find in themselves the ability to overcome the difficulty. Caia Reth knew that she couldn’t.
Maybe laziness was to blame, or the mere fact that she had looked death in the eye and was unwavered. Possibly because it caused her to become the shell that she was now.
Caia was deaf.
She was disabled; in need of assistance, not normal. Traumatized.
No one ever imagines a life without something, when they have seemingly everything. Caia never once imagined what her life would be like without the chirp of a bird’s song outside her window, or a earth shaking clap of thundering, sending her to hide under her covers.
Never had she ever hated to remember in her life.
But this was than just a thought. This memory had buried itself into the crevices of her mind, lodging it into her ears and displaying that horrible midnight crash whenever her eyes would shut close, calling to darkness.
It was a late autumn night. All the golden leaves had fallen from the trees and scattered to the ground, leaving those plants withered and cold, unprotected from the oncoming wrath of a cold winter wind. Gray clouds had gathered in the sky the night before, sending down a torrent of water like pour a bucket down a sink. Now, the remaining puddles of water from a finished rainstorm drenched the uneven gravel pathway. They had decided to embark on this journey after hours and hours of bickering and persuasion. That was just how they got things done, her parents.
The ride had been full of noise and bicker for the first half of the day and now in utter silence for the few remaining hours to reach the destined cabin.
The road towards the abandoned cabin was empty, for the time that it was. It was a small place isolated in the depths of the wood, with the only way there by car and up and down the winding roads that nature filled Upstate had to offer. Caia paid no attention to the scenery that blurred past her window. It was too dark to see anything anyway.
She had begun to grow used to the bumpy road that the wheels would roll by, jolting her car every few turn. People sat in the front seat. She had turned the music on louder at the thought of them, overwhelming upset about something.
Whatever it was, it didn’t matter anymore.
For once on their journey, it was quiet, silent. There was only the soft voice of music in her ears, the only thing she heard as her eyes drifted in and out of sleepiness, the night playing with her mind. She leaned on the window, drifting close in the hold of her seat belt. The music was blasting in her head phones, just to help her ignore her father’s jerky movements and abrupt stops.
Sometimes she questioned her own decisions. But this wouldn’t be the first time that she got into the same car with a drunk.
In her haze of sleepiness she failed to see understand, why screaming had suddenly overtaken the car. Caia blinked, her own closed eyes and the dark of the night making everything unclear. The rest of her memory was captured in still frames.
Everything frozen at an unnatural angle, the moon peeking into the front car window, bodies besides her lurching forward.
Next was the vivid feel of restriction between her neck and shoulder, shattered glass spraying her uncovered face like water.
The darkest darkness that she had ever felt in her life.
It had been six months since the accident on Bear Road. The family car had been found flipped over in a small ditch, after rolling off an unbordered part of the road. There was one person found dead at the scene.
By the time the police had gotten there, they were sure that there would have been more than one death. She remembered bits and pieces after, feeling as light as air one minute and as heavy weighted and held down the next.
She remembered waking up to the most impeccable quiet she had ever encountered.
It was the sense of emptiness in her room, that she didn’t know how to fill. Caia didn’t understand it, but it was there, lingering in this vast space. As she blinked, opening eyes to her consciousness, Caia begun to gather her thoughts. Or more so her surroundings.
Her body was draped neatly with a white cloth, and painless tubes were injected into her scratched and bruised arms. She could barely push herself up, but at least the world wasn’t spinning and dotted with dark spots. Slowly after propping herself up on her elbow was when she had a good look around the room. Her dark brown hair was a mess tied together by a flimsy hairband.
It was sitting on that stiff hospital mattress that Caia realized she had lost her hearing. Long before the doctor had entered the room and announced to her in quick airy gestures that only assured her assumptions even more.
The heavy silence would stay.
As her physical wounds healed, the trauma of the accident opened even more. She found herself falling deeper and deeper into the pits of depression. She hadn’t realized all that she had in the life before the accident, the sound filled, worriless, uncomplicated life that she had.
Caia found herself missing the once annoying rushed sounds of car honks, the stomping of pedestrians besides her on a crowded city walk. She missed the sound of birds chirping outside her bedroom window, accompanied by the howling wind that would make the branches tap her window. Noise was all she wanted.
The silence only caused the depth of her mind to widen, the regret and the horror of it all reminding her that this life was now a prison. Reminding her that there was nothing to do or could do about it.
She was given hearing aids a few months ago. When the machines were put into her ears, the first thing that she felt were the clips placed onto the backs of her head. Then it was the earpieces into her ears. Her finger grazed hesitantly at the small buttons that made jagged the supposed to be smooth surface of the device. She bit her lip, feeling the thundering of her heart before pressing the device on.
Static greeted her ear, as loud as it was it was a sound that she hadn’t heard in awhile. Her eyes widened at it, the realization that it was a sound, it was something that meant that she could once again contact the world that she lived in through the noise that it possessed. She could distinguish and feel and understand once again anything else besides the quiet.
And so, Caia learned that although her life would never been the same again, there was goodness in change.
I have been so disheartened by Christians in 2020 and in particular with “Christian leaders”. I saw this on Twitter and it really hit me. The thing is that Beth Moore is a Christian Leader, she’s often bullied by the patriarchy of the church and is told she’s not a “real leader” because she’s a woman… but she’s a leader none the less.
I was having a discussion with my husband’s cousin the other week about something similar. We were talking about how the evangelical church as a whole is more focused on sin management than Jesus and I said that from my perspective that is because it’s easier to control people if you tell them that they’re bad all the time; easier to control them if you convince them that they need your (Christian leadership) guidance in order to be deemed “good enough.” The irony is not lost on me that I am now Catholic and that is what the Catholic church has relied on for years… but that is not the point of this discussion.
When I was a kid, my dad was the pastor of our church and it always seemed like everyone was trying really hard to get my parents to be friends with them because my dad was the pastor and it gave them good “heaven points” to be friends with the pastor. I’ve wondered often since my dad’s downward nose-dive (it was not a spiral it happened swiftly and without show) what all of these people would think now. They put so much faith into my father as their spiritual guru when really their faith should have been in Jesus, not my father, all along.
Yes, you are correct in thinking “but wait, wasn’t her father also her abuser?” He was all things: my pastor, my father, and my abuser. No one ever suspected the latter because as a public facing Christian leader, all seemed good. That was all that mattered… and that is largely what has made me skeptical of Christian leaders as an adult. I’ve been on the inside, I’ve seen the darkness. I’ve seen the porn addiction, the alcoholism, I’ve heard about the infidelity (not necessarily in my family though my mom has questions), I’ve been close to the fraud, adjacent to the suicides… I know it’s a generalization to say that all Christian leaders are narcissists, but I’ve met many who feed off of the power that comes with their position. It’s so heartbreaking.
The thing that has been really bothering me so much, especially in 2020 and the age of Trump is that so many of these Christian leaders don’t represent Jesus. Jesus is who we’re meant to to follow - not the Jerry Falwell Jr.s of the world. And Jesus message was love. Period. In Matthew 22, Mark 12, and Luke 10 Jesus was asked “What is the greatest commandment?” and he responded “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind, and all your soul. And the second is like it: Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love. Jesus’ message was love. And I haven’t been seeing that reflected in the world lately. People are invoking the name of Christ but speaking words that are the opposite of His message. Too many other people are sitting by and letting that happen… being complicit by not disagreeing (and more, I think, actually do agree with the hate but feel safe to hide behind their leaders).
I don’t know how to fix it. I can only work on fixing myself and hope that that spills out. My focus is on representing Jesus’ message of love. It’s the only thing I know how to do.
The girl was eight now, and her abilities seemed to get stronger every time she practiced and, though he had yet to tell Queen Illirya of the results.
He was…scared to tell her about Isidore. He kept to himself as the room seemed to dim a little, a small smirk formed on as he watched.
“Did I do good?!” The girl beamed out happily, her eyes bright with joy, it brought a warm feeling to Aster. He nodded happily as he picked her up, the little girl didn’t mind, this was normal for her.
“We‘re going to visit someone, okay?” He kept his voice calm to mask his anxiety. though the little girl didn’t seem to notice the man’s fear as she snuggled into his shoulder. It made him feel a bit better as he walked towards the back of the house, making sure to grab something to hide both of their identities.
After all, if he was discovered, who knows what would happen to them.
He looked around anxiously, holding onto the little girl tightly. She didn’t say anything, though he could tell she had some questions.
Eventually, the found who they were looking for. A spider-like woman with multiple eyes and arms and a long, slightly flowy dress.
A slightly baleful smile formed on her face as she looked at the two.
“Is this her?” Her voice was slightly cold as the girl continued to bury her face into Aster’s shoulder, causing Aster to get a little defensive as he gently patted her head.
“Cosmia, please don’t scare her.” Her smile seemed to fade into a more serious look as she motioned for Aster to follow her quickly.
I grew up as a lonely kid. Didn’t have any siblings neither friends who were trustworthy. Many refused to be friends with someone who was of mix blood, claiming we were tainted by a mother who their perception was a whore. Others believed that I was someone who was born into a family of richness when it was the complete opposite.
To be judged so quickly without the hopes of ever understanding or looking pass the walls that I had built on my own because of societies perception of me. So I became a lonely child. Hurt and sad as I sat on my window ledge every night, wondering what was wrong with me as a person. My parents were never home, my father working overseas and my mother spending her time with her siblings.
I came home to an empty house. Slowly i felt the weight of my pains, the weight of the bullying closing in all around me, ending with my own self drowning in the ocean. And when i turned 10, that was the first time I ever drew blood on my fragile wrists. It felt calming that the pain in my chest disappeared and replaced with the physical pain on my wrist. I felt relief in those moments because the pain would disappear every time.
Yet, I didn’t find out until later in life at the age of 24 that those temporary methods of erasing the pain inside led to an unhealthy obsession of pushing those feelings of pain aside. That I myself was incapable of loving another from failed relationships because of the love that I myself couldn’t give to my heart. To my soul. To my very existence. I drove myself deeper into the dark ocean, thriving and basking in it because I myself didn’t know what lies above the surface.
The fires raged on in Gridania as the Garlean empire turned its sights on Eorzean soil, after the failed joint effort of the Gyr Abania and Doman resistance forces lead to their undeniable defeat,the attack upon Balesar’s wall was not soon forgotten as the alliance forces of Gridania, Limsa Lominsa, and Ul'dah were quickly pushed back by overwhelming imperial forces, along with constant guerilla tactics employed by beast tribe mercenaries, there was no stopping the endless advance of Garlean soldiers.
Within the Gridanian wilds of the Black Shroud, Shagin was trying to keep his friends moving, Tataru and Krile were the only ones left for him to save, as his own squad was slaughtered from the constant fighting. As the capital burned, all communication had been jammed and Shagin struggled to keep his senses about him as rage, grief, and pain addled his mind.
“Shagin! Come on you stubborn fool back on your feet, we’re almost there so don’t you dare quit on us.”
He had fallen, not noticing the itchy grass poking against his face as the black cloud in his mind rumbled like a thunderstorm. All the while, Tataru and Krile struggled to keep the battered soldier on his feet.
“K-krile!” Came a pained grunt from Shagin’s lips, the blood still fresh over his squinted eye, “If they find us… You have to take Tataru and run. Even if i can only buy you a minute, you have to fill those sixty seconds worth of distance, and not look back! I can hear their machines, they’re not far… please don’t let yourselves die because i couldn’t protect you.”
Before a retort could leave either woman’s lips, the sound of ignited gunpowder filled the air, the nect few seconds passing in slow motion as Shagin pushed both his allies aside before the stinging pain of a gunshot wound ripped through his leg, forcing him to one knee.
“Ah what have we here, the little resistance hopeful trying to escape the burning nest? Oh i can just smell the promotion waiting for me when i bring back your head! A shame it had to end this way brother, what happened to all the fight you used to have? Did all that time playing the hero make you so overconfident that you thought you could just bowl over the commander in a straight fight?”
Tossing away the gun, on two seperate sides of the same war, stood Shagin’s twin brother. The betrayer, the coward, the murderer. Shagin could only glare with his remaining eye as he struggled not to scream in rage, feeling the inner fury of the beast well up within him. The rage he had quelled for so long had grown ever more ferocious with it’s forced slumber, and it made Shagin’s chest burn.
“Krile… remember what i told you. Run… don’t you dare look back. Take Tataru, and run.”
As the fire raged around them, Shagin used the last of his resolve to raise a bone whistle to his lips and blow with all the breath in his lungs. Calling forth a direwolf to rush from the smoke and sieze another garlean soldier by the throat before lowering itself to allow the two to mount its saddle.
“Take good care of Ezekiel, that damn mutt is a faithful one. Thank you… Krile, Tataru. I’m sorry that this is the end of my story. Carry onward! For those we have lost… and those we may yet save.”
When his eyes opened, there was nothing but two blood red orbs of light as the beast inside had awoken, and he rose to his feet with a bestial roar. His axe gripped tightly in his hands, The warrior lost all control as he gave in to his baser instincts, indulging the beast as he slaughtered and maimed any who dared raise their blade against him.
All the while he felt shackled, reminiscing of the great friends he had made and lost upon his journey. Despite the savage strength and the guttural roar for death and destruction, tears flooded his eyes, wetting his cheeks as the taste of salt and iron mixed into a bitter cocktail of defiance.
When the bloody battle had ended, all that was left was ash and smoke, the shattered remains of magitek war machines, and corpses bore all kinds of savage wounds upon their bodies. The fact that his eyes even opened again was a miracle, but not fir long as he felt the extent of his own injuries finally taking hold of him. As he looked up to the cloud filled sky, the rain soon to be falling, he took one final deep breath as he closed his eyes again, barely registering the familiar voice that screamed for him.
Mid-April, afternoon. I am currently working from home (and I am an intern) and since I am at home, sometimes while doing work, I also do other stuff like opening social medias and read mangas hehe (just like the other peeps). While I was just playing with my phone I remembered that I have a KakaoTalk account but I never actually use it so I opened the app and found the OpenChat feature. That’s when I thought “maybe I should join some random anime group chats just for small talks and ask manga recommendations” and so I did. I joined 2 groups called Anime Life and Anime Love.
Anime Love group was kinda quiet, but there is one person there, a roleplayer that I think is a regular there. He speaks in a serious tone and he said he is half Asian-half European. I left the group afterwards.
Anime Life, when I joined in the afternoon, got around 200 members. The group was quiet but later in the evening, that’s when the story starts.
When I opened the chat, apparently there was a fight going on? There was a boy, who called himself “Cute boi” that called everyone a coward? and he is very cool? Very stupid matter tbh. AND SADLY ENOUGH he is from the same country as me because he said it himself (SECONDHAND EMBARASSMENT). He even texted his real legal name to show “Look I am not a coward I tell my name” like LMAOOO such a dumb move. He called everyone ugly and wants to chat with the cute girls???? PLEASE NO. But eventually the guy gone and things are starting to get normal.
After that event, everyone active there started to get to know each other, that was also the beginning of all the drama.
I’ve been talking about my husband a lot lately since our wedding anniversary was last week - and now you have to suffer through one more post because today he is 40!
I know it sounds cliche and gag-worthy but I really am so grateful that he is my husband. He is caring, thoughtful, funny, and smart. He always finds the best places to eat. He has a knack for balancing me when I’m feeling anxious or obsessive. He also gets more excited about presents than any grown man I’ve ever seen in my life. On top of everything else - Revy has adored him since the day that they met almost five years ago. He’s such an amazing father to our daughter.
I am not great at gushing so I’ll just leave this message here for him and be on my way: Babe, happy birthday! This year’s birthday looks nothing like we talked about or imagined but I hope it’s still everything you want it to be. We’ll be back at Disneyland again soon (but not too soon). Thank you for all of your love and support, I hope you feel the same being sent in your direction. We love you so much (even Revy). Here’s to your forties being the best decade yet!
Раньше моя жизнь была донельзя скучной и однообразной. Работа-дом, дом-работа. Утром я уже находился в своем офисе, одетый как с иголочки, и перебирал разные документы, изредка переговариваясь с коллегами, одетыми также, как я-в строгие деловые и стильные костюмы, а на их лицах были натянуты улыбки. Они делали вид, что им нравилось работать за копейки, хотя я где-то в глубине души знал, что когда они приходят домой, то проклинают эту работу, проклинают душнилу-начальника, который дает очень много заданий, что их за один день не выполнишь, а срок сделать их до завтра… Я ненавидел систему всей душой, потому что она превращала из людей послушных рабов. Миром правили деньги, деньги были богом, который исполнит любое твое желание. Но для этого приходилось жертвовать своей свободой и личным комфортом.
Поэтому, в один прекрасный день я уволился, и бросил свою старую квартиру, где жил до этого с отцом и матерью. Мой отец постоянно пил, избивал мать (иногда попадало и мне, часто за попытку ее защитить) и тратил ее деньги на все тот же алкоголь, хотя он знал, что у мамы очень тяжелая работа, и она вообще не отдыхала. Пока он с такими же товарищами-алкашами пил пиво у старого “Грюндига”, мать стирала, убирала и готовила.Она боялась потерять отца потому что “ну хоть кто-то пускай будет, а то как я одна!” и старалась исполнить все что он просил, даже получая вместо поцелуев побои. А, между прочим, из-за его алкоголизма денег почти не хватало на еду и оплату коммуналки, к нам уже приходили приставы, чтобы отбирать квартиру. В конце концов я не выдержал, собрал вещи и ушел. Если им нравится так жить, то мне нет.
Я поселился в заброшенном общежитии, на пятом этаже. Оно находилось на окраине города. Там было не так уж и плохо, не то что дома. Правда было много пыли, но я быстро ее убрал и промыл свою комнату. Интерьер там состоял из двух кроватей, книжного шкафа, стола, стула и тумбочки, над которой висело зеркало. Стены были обклеены винтажными зелеными обоями, на которых красовались различные цветы, в некоторых местах они были порваны и виднелись кусочки штукатурки. Почему я не снял комнату в нормальных условиях, спросите вы? Это опять означало бы стать рабом системы, коим быть я не хотел. Пришлось бы устраиваться снова на работу, на которой бы платили маленькие деньги, и это все бы пришлось отдавать собственнику. Тогда бы уже точно не хватило на еду. На тот момент мне казалось, что лучше стать бродягой, чем иметь “копейки” и быть несвободным. Ведь мы живем в обществе, которое все решает за нас. И из-за этого мы становимся марионетками, которыми можно управлять.
Поэтому я выживал как мог: взламывал квартиры, крал еду из магазинов и ресторанов-и меня ни разу не поймали! Я мог взять за просто так бутылочку хорошего пива или съесть стейк с кровью, не платя за это большие суммы. У меня была хорошая одежда и обувь. И я ничего не терял.
Но во время одной из таких вылазок за пропитанием кое-что случилось. И это навсегда изменило мою жизнь.
Был ноябрь, прошел ровно год с моего увольнения и поселения в общежитие. Я нес в руках буханку хлеба и длинный кусок колбасы, а в моих ушах слышался гул сердца. Меня все же застукали за тем, что я с неоплаченными покупками крался к выходу, и пришлось быстро улепетывать от охраны. Во время погони, я каким-то образом умудрился разорвать рукав своей толстовки, видимо зацепился за что-то. Убедившись, что за мной больше никто не гонится, я остановился у фонтана в парке и сел на лавочку. Нужно было восстановить силы и все же немного поесть.
Только я собрался откусить кусочек от буханки, так моему взору предстала странная картина. Неподалеку от фонтана танцевала девушка, причем танцевала она без музыки. Чуть-чуть поодаль лежала шапка, где находилась мелочь. Золотые волосы незнакомки струились вокруг нее, а сама она была одета в розовое платье фасона “облако”, которое обычно носят маленькие дети. На голове у девушки сидела бумажная корона.
Ее танец привлек внимание двух солдат, которые старались напеть какую-то мелодию в такт ее движениям. Когда незнакомка закончила и подняла шапку, то солдаты поблагодарили ее за чудесный танец и дали две зеленые бумажки. Издалека я увидел, что сумма у одной была около 500, но валюту не увидел. Вдруг я заметил, что солдаты исчезли, а девушка смотрит то на меня, но на мою руку. Она подошла ближе, протянула шляпу со всем, что она заработала и сказала, чтобы взял все, что там лежит.
-Не могу,-сказал я,-да и тебе не кажется, что первому встречному не дают такие большие суммы?-Мой взгляд скользнул по купюрам. 500 и 200. Вместе 700 долларов. Она еще активнее начала протягивать шляпу.
-Вон, у тебя весь рукав порван!- бордовая ткань разошлась до самого плеча, и незнакомка это заметила. Я хотел найти нитки и зашить все сам, мне не нужны были подачки. Меня злило с какой настойчивостью девушка предлагала эти деньги. Я ей сказал:
-Нитки я сам найду. Деньги мне не нужны. Лучше купи себе другое платье на эту сумму, а то в этом ты выглядишь, как малолетняя, ей богу!-тут она надулась, сунула мне в руки эту шапку и побежала за фонтан. “Дура!”-выкрикнул я и устремился за ней, но она оказалась быстрее и вскоре исчезла среди серых новостроек, а я остался стоять у калитки…
“Все равно я рано или поздно с ней встречусь, и верну все ее деньги. Зачем она мне их всучила? Она же не знает меня…”-мои мысли прервал звон колоколов, доносящийся откуда-то издалека. Становилось очень ветрено, и я решил пойти домой, не представляя, что ждет меня в дальнейшем…