by ktaara@lj:
Yesterday, or more precisely late evening. When I get rid of the monitor, I go into a large room. My husband is studying something on the internet. And then, to my horror, I notice that in the most distant and unlit corner of the corridor at the door, my Manusya sits still, compressed by a small piece.
The heart immediately jumped to the throat. Convulsively I swallow and cry: "I miss it!" No reaction. But she always whispers and turns around when she hears her name.
“Lisha,” I shouted, “I think our cat is sick! Look at her sitting out there at the door, she’s probably hurt!
- No, - without leaving the virtual astral, the husband answers. This is a bag of shit.
You are yourself!! How are you! How can you call it so, why!!! - In general, Manushu's husband loves him, so his indifference and rudeness shocks me even more. - She is sick, probably, we will go to the clinic right now, find out where the nearest 24-hour clinic is!! to
- No, all the same enthusiastic reading something, replies Leha. It’s just a bag of shit.
- Silence, you insensitive... - I quickly go to the dark hill at the door, and suddenly I notice a peaceful cat on the chair.
And in the corner near the door stood a carefully folded bag with the used filler, which the husband put there to not forget to take out in the morning : ))))