I literally just got out of the subway train, and I see: the girl quickly goes to the transition, moving the phone with headphones from one hand to the other. Suddenly, the headphones cling to the backpack of the passing guy and with one move disappear from her hands. She does not immediately understand what happened and is confused looking for the disappearance. In the meantime, the guy walks boldly on his way, and the headphones roll on the backpack. While the girl understood where they were going, the guy managed to walk 5 meters. Here the girl finally saw them and rushed to pursue them. I grabbed, pulled from the hot to the backpack too hard and, of course, unexpectedly for the guy. He turns around, pulling out his eyes, and sees that from his backpack some grandmother is pulling out the headphones! Of course, he grabbed them. She said, “This is mine! Give it!” :)

There was one grandfather in our entrance, and he lived alone. His sad story was known to the whole house.

His wife died when he was sixty years old with a younger, older son, drowned and killed at a beautiful time, even a grave where he did not know. The younger son died tragically, so that there was nothing to bury, burned in the fire.

Truth remained his granddaughter from the eldest son, she then visited grandfather from time to time. Well you know the youth, everyone runs somewhere, everyone is in a hurry and they have no time to give the elderly a worthy attention.

And recently, we started to notice, our grandfather started buying one or two bottles of vodka from each retirement.

Have you drunk, right? “We guessed, but we didn’t see him drunk, and at eighty they didn’t start drinking.

And then one early morning a gunshot sounded, but no one paid attention to it, if little, maybe that fell.

At noon, we found out that my grandfather was shot.

To death he prepared carefully, wrote a farewell letter, in death I ask not to blame anyone.

On the table was the money with the sign "for the funeral", on the bed a suit, a shirt and other things "in these things dress me", in the corner of the room a box with vodka "remember this." On the door of the apartment a note was attached "without the police not to enter."

And as the granddaughter said, the day before he asked her, "Come at twelve, I'll wait.

He covered the couch with cellophane, sat down and shot himself in the heart.

and all.

Later, when they examined the things of Grandpa Makar, they found his diary.

Over the course of a year and a half, he wrote sixteen goodbye notes and every time there was a quote "I couldn't today, maybe next time. »

This is such a sad story.

I recently worked as a tech operator at a local provider.

In addition to the main work, we have a telephone for receiving applications for gkh(?). People call, complain about wiring / pipes / life / etc., and we all record and pass on to the masters by mail.



So today, the comrade had an interesting dialogue. Further from his words:

“Oh these girls. By the will of fate, we have a telephone controller in the organization. She says the batteries are a little hot. I ask, have you touched? I hear – I was upset, shuddered, then “no, I don’t know, probably...” and dropped the phone. Such things.”

The edge of the ear caught a conversation at work of two mademoises at the age of slightly over 30:

(1) - I used to be excited when a man was watching himself, swinging. Well, you know that the belly with the cubes, the back with such wide pieces here (images the hand with a gesture spinning the widest muscles of the back), so that the hands were large, so that the cared for was, shaved, with a laying, tasty smell...

2) And now what?

And now it excites me if a man washes his dishes at least after him.

Losing illusions is the gain of the mind.

This is a real story. Many years ago, newspapers wrote about it.
During the war an square arrived with the evacuated children in Tashkent. Among the children was an Estonian boy Leonard. He was about three years old. The children were not given to the children's home, they were distributed by families. I took that white boy too. I asked what your name was. He answered something like the moon. The moon is moon. So they began to call him. years have passed. Lunabai grew up, married, became chairman of the colloquium. Cologne has record cotton harvests. Lunabaja Abdulayev (I do not remember the name, let it be Abdulayev) was awarded the title of Hero of Socialist Labour. This was filmed in a small video in the journal "Chronicle of the day" and shown before the film sessions. Leonard’s Estonian mother was always looking for her son. I didn’t believe it wasn’t. She sent requests to children’s homes, hoping that the child was adopted by good people. During the movie session, she accidentally, neighbors suggested, saw her young husband in the Kremlin being awarded the Golden Star of the Hero. My husband was no longer alive at that time. began to understand. And here Lunabai with the son and gifts of Uzbekistan came to Estonia for a meeting. Lunaba’s son served in the army and spoke Russian well. Mother and son spoke through double translation. Her mother was Estonian, her daughter, Luna's sister, translated into Russian, and Lunaba's son was already Uzbek. A wonderful island! If you count the probability of such a happy ending, it is zero. It is necessary for the child to survive the long evacuation to Tashkent. In order not to become a blind man, did not sleep, but got into a good family. He grew up as a respected man and became a hero. You need to make a movie about him and see this movie in a distant Estonian village. Most importantly, he looked like his father. If this story is filmed, the viewer will not believe the reality. This is a sentimental story for the housewife. But life sometimes turns such stories that no scriptwriter dreamed of.
P.S A touching island. Many years have passed since the publication, and I still remember.

When the servants of the people say that the time is hard, it is time to strain the belts and still be terrified - the people may be in a hurry to think if in such difficult times he needs a whole herd of looted servants.