Don′t look in mirrors. The fourth experience

Don′t look in mirrors. The fourth experience

­What, excuse?

- How mother?

- Эээ, whose? – I asked, trying to understand that I do in the yard.

I didn′t remember neither as put on nor as closed a door behind itself nor as went outside. Each word through internal fog troubled; fog was so dense that I fir-trees-fir-trees recognized the neighbor – the elderly woman in a coat.

- Your mother. You as it should be? A pale face, the look which is absent and watch something as on the street it is cold, and you in one undershirt. You will catch a cold!

- The Aaa, washing … It is normal.

- Say hello to it and put on more warmly.

- Well. Yes I here … Well … I follow cigarettes.

- Well, clear.

Consciousness refused to be restored, the body was wadded, hands didn′t obey, still it was necessary to hide from them – from public eyes on the street. Though parents were for 600 kilometers from here, all the same there would be informants. One inhaling on the run, another.

"How I after all left the house? When? What for? Why didn′t throw at least with a windbreaker shoulders", - the same thoughts on the way home turned.

"Taaak, a door I locked – it is already good"

The picture in my empty apartment slightly dumbfounded: in kitchen, in the room of parents and in mine – the light was turned on everywhere, radio worked, water flew from cranes, the parental computer was switched on:

- Dimetrochka, I am hungry. Go to bed quickly. – The notebook inscription on the monitor said.

Having quickly switched off, having nervously smoked a cigarette I laid down under a blanket, thoughts, the same thoughts haunted.

- Great you about cigarettes thought up!

- Do you laugh? At me shook with fear of a knee. I stood and didn′t know what to do.

- And unless you remember nothing?

- I don′t remember that?

- Go to me, all shakes you.

- Oleg …

- The CU - with-with, calm down. – he embraced having closed hands on a waist. – My good, quietly, quietly.

- It was the sea?

- Become exactly, relax a body.

- So?

- Yes. – It arranged hands so that warm little fingers densely adjoined to my temples, thumbs to a forehead, and I felt his forefingers as if all skull.

It reminded splashes, through their stream I saw a picture from outside, saw myself going on a warm surface the sea – going on water.

- And then you stopped and asked where conducts the sea. Forgive, I so often did earlier, you shouldn′t have remembered anything.

- So where conducts the sea? – it was heated about his warm, live, asthenic body.

- In you, expensive, at the colors surrounding you, tastes, smells, vibrations, flights, landings. I got up from your bed, put on your clothes, faded laces your fingers, touched yours, your body went outside.

- So you were me?

- So occurs every night, - he embraced even more strong. – Went, we will drive?

Warm from the summer sun, comfortable from absence of any people except us, the city, fresh and damp from a recent rain, hospitably let in the underground passages conducting to raspolagayushche to the empty platforms of metro stations painted by lighting lamps, lamps of restrictive strips, hours and the timer of an interval of train service. From deep darkness of a tunnel at first the strips of headlights which were reflected in a wall, and seemed then and with anything incomparable music – the rumble of the arriving train – added a picture: neither the driver in a cabin, nor passengers except us, nor the announcement of the closed doors. We took places, he sat down at doors to put the head on the wall proceeding further a window, I nearby, the train slowly gathered speed, with even more fascinating sound braked opening doors at each deserted station.

- Great I thought up, the truth? – its voice was distributed the second stream of thoughts in the head.

- Still as!

- Don′t shout, and that you will strain a voice. You can speak with me without disconnecting lips.

"It is interesting how", - I thought.

- Quite so, - he confirmed.

- That is you hear my thoughts? – mentally I addressed.

- Not everything, only turned to me, - it got something from a pocket. – Hold, and that at me a habit to put someone else′s lighters in a pocket.

- Thanks, - I took the lighter, strong I squeezed his hand and put the head on a shoulder – his warm shoulder.

The kaleidoscope of one set of lamps in tunnels before stations was replaced by others, from time to time darkness lit up with flashing of oncoming trains, instinctively closed eyes, and having woken up in the compressed hand found that lighter.

Мне нравится:

Рубрика произведения: Проза ~ Мистика
Количество отзывов: 0
Количество сообщений: 0
Количество просмотров: 6
Свидетельство о публикации: №1210826429971
@ Copyright: Дмитрий Плазмер, 26.08.2021г.


Есть вопросы?
Мы всегда рады помочь! Напишите нам, и мы свяжемся с Вами в ближайшее время!