I work as an expert. There was one very interesting case. One day I peacefully drank tea in a break in proud solitude. The door opened and a 55-year-old man entered. With a scream: "Save, help, we need to examine the lock and the door, and you can also fingerprints." Please tell me the subject matter. The man reports that people come home to him every day. They don’t steal anything, but they put the furniture in places, they wear clothes, they twist the bulbs.
The first thought was waiting, the first crazy in my career. The second thought – I have lived in the white light for a long time, I know about human greed. A man asks if he lives alone, if there are savings and real estate, if there are loved and adored relatives. Yes to all answers! Does the family have the keys to the apartment? No, there was a scandal with her daughter, she became a fierce follower of the pasta monster (or "daughter of Christ", which is the same for me), the keys were taken from her. The thought that the daughter decided to bring the father to a psychic and take possession of property, beats in the head more and more.
The man said he was a frequent visitor to the police and prosecutor's office. However, no traces of theft were found.
Idiots do not work there, if no traces of the breach were found, they are not there. I will not find either. A man is advised to buy a simple camera or video recorder. I say goodbye to him. Until last autumn. We came back with the October rains.
He said there was only one hope for me. He, on my advice, set up a registrator and filmed a stranger entering the apartment and eating his spice. Directly from the bank. I ate almost the whole bank. An unheard of boldness. He took the video to the police, and they gave it to a psychic for some reason. Showing the video on the phone, and there... as already guessed, he himself, personally. That is where I was scared. Without showing up, she said that I will not be able to help, because "we are forbidden from above to enter the police affairs." And advised to go to the experts of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, type their profile. I know that the CPC will not go further, there can work with such individuals.
He refused to go to the MVD, he does not want to go to the psychic again. He said that there was the last sting in the sleeve - he will go to Malakhov, there they will believe him.
It was in the winter of 1997, and he was still in school. We go with a friend past the house, from the window of the second floor a scream- "Hey fools go us" and disappears. A friend makes a big snow and in the fortress. We stood for a couple of minutes, I was waiting thinking the shots would go down and give, and under what pretext I dropped. Two years later, I went to Crimea in the summer. Drinks, walks and so on. One company, another, there talked, a guy from my city. Where from which area? I know this house, I was there a few years ago and I tell this story. He is in the cockpit! He tells his version. A couple of years ago in the winter, the parents are not at home, with friends eaten, I (He) smoke in the fortress go two-"Hey fools go on" and under the window. His friend just exploded to the window to add as he got a portion of snow in the fucking. They sit on the floor waiting when they get up and give them.
We separated in autumn. Rita left me.
And I went. I wanted to swing. I was afraid to take revenge on her. And Diko wanted to drag her back into the night again. So much emotion in the head of a young fool.
30 years have passed. My God, thirty years. In front of me was Rita, the treasurer of Rita in the “Five”.
The fifth, the box. I put out my kefir with garlic and cigarettes.
The treasurer quickly greets, without looking at me, knocks, “That’s all?” He throws away the painted cloth. What a familiar gesture. But I would have gone if I hadn’t looked at the badge that everyone has a cashier on his chest. by Margarita Averina.
Rita is you?
She finally raises her eyes at me:
And what... God! by Loyola?
I didn’t expect to meet you like this.
Summer of 1988. My husband and I are going to Moscow on Sunday. She is in a black mini shirt, lean, with beaten and lacquered hair, in her ears huge plastic earrings, grimps. She talks about aerobics.
Rita has beautiful legs, a slightly loose walk and an eternal light smile. It’s like she’s running away from me, and I’m trying to catch her. Rita is wildly sexy, men turn around. And I am proud to have such a girl with me, and I am angry because she doesn’t even allow herself to embrace.
I tell her that I dream of becoming a journalist, Rita smiles:
I think it is boring. I will be a singer. It is certain.
We are 20 years old. Rita graduates from music school, piano. But now it is summer, there is no class, so she has long nails, with red lacquer. These hands and those nails also make me crazy.
Rita says strictly:
I want to eat! Out of coffee!
I only have a rubber in my pocket. I was going to live for him for a week, my mom left before leaving. And this cafe is worth the hell knows how much it seems to be cooperative, to collapse. But I make a careless face: of course, go! I think it would be enough for the red, but it would be enough.
In the cafe, Rita ordered pizza and champagne. We drank, and I didn’t care, just to take Rita home from here for the night. But there was the Mirage group.
Rita jumped up and started dancing under her alone, boldly and passionately. All the fat around stood up on Rita, forgetting about the vodka snack. And Rita still sang: “Music has bound, the mystery has become...” She felt like a star.
I almost had no money, but Rita carelessly threw the ruble on the table:
Okay we go for a walk! So what next?
And we went to me. It seemed to have been the longest and best night in my life. Excellent aerobics for two. “Music has connected us, the mystery has become ours” – it sounded in my happy chambered head.
Three months later, in the autumn, we split up. Rita left me:
“Listen, I met a guy, very nice, sorry. And he also said that he would introduce me to the right person at the recording studio. I want to record an album, I even came up with a title – “My Happiness.”
A silly name, I answered.
And went away. I wanted to swing. I was afraid to take revenge on her. And Diko wanted to drag her back into the night again. So much emotion in the head of a young fool.
Thirty years have passed. My God, thirty years. In front of me was Rita, the treasurer of Rita in the "Five".
Do you remember being a singer? I smiled.
Rita smiled nervously:
“We all wanted something... But I know you became a journalist. Sometimes I read you, you are good.
I left the store. I thought about Rick. Well, you can say, I’ve been revenged, let’s say thirty years later. I did not deliberately give up. As funny as it was, there were exactly ten rubles. The coin.
Only now they are not at all those ten rubles, not drinking in a cafe with Soviet champagne. Music stunned, Rita became fat, her life ends at the box office, accompanied by barcode. The grief.
A few days later, I went into the same “five”. I rarely go there, but I went there. With an unclear purpose.
She was there again. He saw me and was pleased:
You are smoking, right? Let us go! I’ll ask Nail to sit at the box.
Rita put on her jacket and we smoked. Rita said:
I was a fool then, sorry.
Rita, it doesn’t matter now. Thirty years passed. I have a third marriage and I have three children.
And Rita smiled – as then:
I suddenly understood. You are sorry for me, right? You think – here is an unfortunate aunt, dreamed of becoming a star, and now at the box, weighing potatoes.
Well, not that...
I see. You are regret. Remember, I wanted to name the album “My Happiness”? You know, it is not stupid. I would call it so now. Just our happiness is changing very much, our notions about it. For twenty-five years I have been married to a very good man, Dimka. Yes, he’s simple, he doesn’t have any music hearing at all, he snores at night. But he is a good car mechanic, he has put up the furnace in our country, he knows everything. We have an adult daughter, a beautiful woman. She is twenty-two, more than I was then. She is a lawyer, such a businessman, not like me at all. She is married, and we have a granddaughter, also Rita, she is one and a half years old. I am a very happy grandmother. I had a great life. The job of the cashier? I could not work, my husband has normal money. But why not work while your granddaughter is in the garden? I am sociable, you know. Okay, I have to run.
Rita, I finally said. You are right, fucking right. And I do not regret you at all. Run, I was glad to see you.
Already standing in the green door, she suddenly turned:
By the way, I became a singer. I sing to my granddaughter, she loves it. So I am a star. A real star for my granddaughter.