My Olya | Christy: skrju | og.dec.zool
Today is Friday, my day off. Olya today with red hair, you
you know, she's so funny! And even freckles, they make her face
luminous, it seems to radiate warmth, the whole point of these
weight Nushki. Olga does not like freckles, but because today
is Tuesday, and it with another person and very sober. Put on
the long UB ku, gold-rimmed spectacles, and asks me to call her
Margo. Now she sits behind a large desk in mahogany
and sign the papers. Yes, she loves people to lend their
signature, and then pick them up. Together with the white
fibers of skin. My Olga hates the color, so she always wears
glasses, and today, winter Sunday, there is nothing in the
same color, she threw them in the garbage can. Big black
garbage can of woven plastic, having tied a thick yellow
rubber wire, full crumpled paper and disposable tea bags. Now
she was in the office, which she loves to hate. My Olya
despises ak kuratnost and shiny polished people, they make her
gag reflex. Then she goes to the bathroom and pukes in the
sink. Polished to shine a white sink.
Today is Monday, December. We are standing on the street,
opposite another, between us two hundred centimeters and three
human body. Our eyes connected thread of madness, of which the
accustomed spots katsya our sober friends. They are strange,
they do not believe that we have is sufficient to only hear the
voices of each other, they can not understand that just one
look in his eyes and touching his lips to us sufficiently to go
crazy. Here and now, this bespectacled Granddaddy, choked,
used acid, touched me with his white sleeve. Thin white old
man in a robe. Why is he here in frost-Petersburg - in a
bathrobe? White old man.
My Olya sat side by side, I was lying on the floor, arms
outstretched, and yielding intoxication of music. We
understand each other, I have the floor, he feels my every
movement, every beat of my bright yellow heart. Olya sitting
beside him. Today, she is beautiful, in tight jeans and bell
bottoms with a nice neckline. I loved her just two minutes ago.
I sat opposite her and began to examine her lips. My lips Oli.
We're happy. Light runs on shredded wood floor to shine, here
She fell down and laughed. Bright child ... So nice and warm
with bright yellow heart inside. Light. Our daughter.
Autumn. Dry leaves stuck to the wet from the shower glass, we
sit in the fireplace room and look each other in the mouth. Me
and Olya. We love. Olga did not notice the light softly crept
up from behind and focus on her shiny pistol. I continued to
be touched her lips, my lips Oli. Light slowly pulled the
trigger. Bah! From the trunk yellow flag came out on a thin
stick.
Today we are thirty, Tuesday was eighteen. I do not ho chu die
without my Oli ... And yesterday she told me that her name
Tanya. Well, Tanya. M o I T I A N.
