I’m working in a movie, or “the boy”. And looks like his colleague from the cartoon "Film! The movie! The film.” This is an important detail for the story.



It was filmed in the deep suburbs in the summer.

The lunch break ended. Before lunch we filmed in the yard of a five-story house, and then we had to go to the street nearby. There, near the respectable two-storey mansion, was the place of the next scene.

The actors fixed the makeup, the lighting workers drank the compot, and I went out of the courtyard and approached the mansion. There, the “deceived shareholders” already laid the rails under the operator’s carriage.

There was no one on the roof. I sat down on the wide stairs and stuck in the phone – there were a few minutes until the main group appeared. Suddenly the door opened from behind and slightly stuck me. I cried out. A man in a light costume came out of the door. He looked closely at me and asked:

Did not hurt?

I shrugged my head. He made an impression on the boss. I was afraid that he would start to blaspheme: me for sitting on his stairs, and the trolls for the rails at the doorstep. There were precedents of aggressive settlers, so I tried to smile charmingly.

Sorry please. I thought here...

“It happens,” he smiled in response. What are you doing here?

We film the series.

And seriously? About what?

Conversation was engaged. Or rather a monologue. the mine. I started with a story about the series, and ended with my opinion about our general producer and the state of domestic cinema as a whole. The stranger cried, listened and even laughed in the right places. I began to look at him with interest.

Nuance: I am specifically over thirty, and I am not married. Not that it oppressed me very much, but... I was already registered as an old maid in my hometown, and this is annoying. And sometimes I perceive some men as potential candidates, so to speak, for the hand, the heart and cellulite. And this man – tall, in a great costume – looked good! I heard Mendelssohn’s march in my head.

The inner voice said, “In Ryazhsk everyone will die of jealousy!” I, as usual, told him to silence and continued to smile to the stranger.

I saw that there was no ring.



The group climbed. A metre from us, Sasha’s makeup maker got up in ultra-short shorts and began to act on my nerves – with his endless legs, figure and youth – but the stranger looked only slightly at Sasha and continued the conversation. Then he said:

I am time. I see, you too. You will call somehow. Or come, he stretched out his card and went inside. Near the door was a plaque: “Center “Optimist”. and all.

I turned a glance at the card. Name and name. The Optimist Center. The Director.”

Who is he and what did he want? I asked Sasha.

I shrugged my shoulders. She stood, wheeled the card in her hands, smiled confusedly and thought: if he gave me his number, despite a young blonde nearby (in very short shorts!Maybe I am really nothing?

It is strange, said Sasha. The Optimist Center. The Director.” and all. What the center is doing is unclear.

She took a card, read it. And then I turned her. On the rear side was written: “Let’s Get Rid of Excess Weight and Alcohol Dependency.” We will help you. Come here.”



And I’ve already managed to have three children, a golden retriever and a mortgage.

and no judgment.

Sasha then halfway ran away from me on the pitch. and laughed...