valeriyshenk

[valeriyshenk]

Inside

Have you ever heard a voice in your head that could take over your perception, putting your mind into a augmented reality mode, showing you its negative vision of reality or even the future?

Well... It happened to me, back when I was still a student, though already quite grown-up. I happened to step into a restaurant. I had just received my modest monthly salary for working half a day at a small office, where I took orders from clients for satellite TV installation. This salary wasn’t my first, plus I had a scholarship that covered my usual expenses. I didn’t go into the restaurant with great enthusiasm, but the desire to experience the feeling of dining in a beautifully furnished place, having dishes that I had tried in everyday life but prepared with different recipes and spices, took over. I opened the gilded door. There were no free tables, but the waitress, giving me a scanning glance—cold, piercing, and professional—offered me a chair at the bar counter.

- Good evening. What would you like? – asked the bartender, a man slightly older than me, dressed in a black shirt and vest, calmly polishing glasses.

- Good evening. What do people my age and status usually order from you?

- Usually... Usually, people like you get drunk in their dorms first and come here only to meet someone and make an impression.

- But I, I just want to have a calm, pleasant evening.

 -In that case, I can offer you whiskey. Not the most expensive, but of good quality. Ice will let you sip it longer.

- Well, why not. Do you serve any food here?

- All the tables are taken for dinner. I can only offer you some chocolate, a bit of cheese, nuts, soda to dilute the whiskey, but I wouldn't recommend doing that. Take some dark chocolate if you can't drink without snacks.

- Fine, I'll take the chocolate, and I'll try to wait for a free table.

- It’s quite possible that that couple will leave soon, – said the bartender, handing me a glass of whiskey with ice and a small bowl of roughly broken pieces of dark, aromatic chocolate, and pointing to a table behind me.

- Why do you think so? – I asked, taking the first sip. He wasn’t lying, the drink was good, and the chocolate complemented its aftertaste and warmth. – They’ve only just entered. I saw them in the cloakroom.

- Look at her hands more closely.

- Her movements are a little nervous, maybe it’s her first time here…

- They’ve been here before. Keep watching.

- She almost always keeps her hands crossed.

- Just like her legs, my friend, – suddenly a voice came from next to me. It was a man about thirty-five years old, blond, wearing an unbuttoned coat. Strange, he hadn’t checked it in like everyone else. Under his coat was a white shirt and a vest, somewhat like the bartender’s. – Hello, Alfred, the usual for me, please.

- Good evening, sir. One moment, – the bartender replied as though they were old friends. Then he served the man a cup of tea and a slice of pie.

- Thank you, Alfred, – the man replied and took a sip. – What else have you noticed, my friend? – he turned to me again.

- Not much yet. They seem to be talking about something. Everything looks calm enough.

- No, no. Just wait a bit and we’ll see a scene. You won’t even finish your whiskey, and she’ll already be hailing a cab to go home, but most likely to another man, who she thinks understands her better than this unfortunate one sitting across from her, – he said it as though he could see the future, and with great pleasure, began chewing his pie.

- May I know your name? – I asked, but the stranger didn’t react. That’s when the bartender intervened:

- No one knows his name. He doesn’t say it, although he’s been coming here every evening for the last six months.

- And why doesn't anyone know your name? I asked the stranger again.

- I forgot it, or maybe it never existed. Maybe it’s not necessary. Consider me just a shadow, like the voice of a narrator in a documentary film, for example.

- How should I address you then?

- You’re a good guy, old friend, that’s immediately obvious. I’d like you to consider me a friend. So, just call me ‘my friend.

- So, you don’t need my name either?

- You’re quick to catch on. Why bother with formalities, right?

- Of course, if that’s what you prefer, I replied, thinking to myself that I’d never come back to this restaurant again. My glass still had some whiskey left, and my friend’s pie was finished. He picked up his cup and turned in his chair. I did the same. Alfred started serving other customers who had just arrived. It wasn’t long before the girl we’d been watching stood up, waved away the guy who tried to stop her, and quickly ran out of the room.

- Should we stop her? What if she’s making a mistake? I asked the stranger.

- It’s too early. If we see her again, I’ll help her.

- How?

- Maybe just for one evening, if she wishes.

- How did you know she would do that?

- Her body language and her gaze.

- Crossed arms and legs?

- At the very least. A woman in love wouldn’t close herself off from her lover, especially not in a place like this with other women around. While he was speaking, the guy paid his bill and approached the bar. He ordered a whiskey and began calling for a taxi.

- What did you do to upset your lady, my friend? the stranger addressed him.

- I didn’t upset her. Spent so much money on this idiot. She doesn’t like this, doesn’t like that. You know how it is... What’s the point? I thought I could soften her up at the restaurant and get my way. I should’ve called Alexis. She’ll never say no... He sighed as he finished his whiskey. Don’t waste your time on women, gentlemen, all their tricks and sultry glances, don’t fall for it. It’s all a lie. Have a good evening. And with that, he disappeared through the restaurant doors.

- I think it’s time for me to go too, I said, finishing my whiskey. I asked Alfred for the bill, left a little for a tip, and said goodbye to both of them. The stranger called after me:

- We’ll meet again, my friend. I nodded and stepped out onto the street. As I was about to turn toward my house, someone crashed into me from behind. I reacted quickly, turned around, and caught the very blonde we had been watching in my arms. Her frightened blue eyes looked up at me, shimmering in the light of the streetlamp. She smelled of flowers and something sweet. The cold made the scents even stronger. Her coat was very soft. For a few seconds, we just looked at each other. Then she reached out with her hands in those beautiful leather gloves and wrapped them around my neck, pulling herself up. I finally snapped out of my stupor and helped her get back on her feet.

- I’m sorry, she said. And thank you.

- Are you upset about something? I asked.

- I acted a little foolishly, but it’s not important. I found out something bad. And I think I forgot my scarf in the cloakroom. Sorry, I have to go.

- Stop by the bar later. They’ll help you there.

- You know, I think that might help... she said, shifting from one foot to the other and looking at me with a very strange gaze, one I’d never noticed in women before. I thought she wanted me to go with her. I even started imagining how I’d return and have dinner at the restaurant as I had wanted, and it would be even better since this wonderful creature would be with me. I imagined how I’d pull out her chair when she sat down, how they’d bring us the menu, she’d choose a dish... but then, it felt like someone else had taken control of my mind and started showing me terrifying things.

How I will trip over something and push her because of it, how the dinner bill will be too much for me and the manager will call the police, how this girl will look at me, laughing or crying, telling the officer that I was bothering her or something else. My desire to go with her weakened, and I said:

- I hope the rest of the evening will be pleasant for you. – I said, trying to break the awkward silence that had hung between us. She sighed, waved me goodbye, and entered the restaurant. This always happens with me. When an opportunity or a dream I wish to achieve arises, there’s always this evil entity inside me that turns everything good in my fantasies upside down and takes away my desire to do anything. Why didn’t I go with her? Maybe I would have gotten to know such a beauty better. Even if nothing had come of it, I would have had more pleasant memories of her, not just the mesmerizing look and incredibly alluring scent. All week, I felt very strange. I couldn’t shake that evening from my head. So today, I decided to go to that restaurant again. Alfred greeted me and asked if I wanted the same whiskey again. I agreed. I turned on my chair and looked around the room while Alfred prepared my glass. The stranger wasn’t at the bar, even though the time was the same as last time. Then I noticed him at a table, and with whom? With that very girl I caught when she slipped! They were sitting and chatting sweetly about something. About fifteen minutes later, she started crying. He said something to her, then ran his hand through her hair and touched her ear. The girl went quiet for a moment, and then, after sniffing a few more times, calmed down. She finished her dinner and sweetly said goodbye to the stranger. When she left, he paid the bill and came up to the bar.

- Greetings, old chap. Alfred, my friend. Please, the usual.

- Of course, sir.

- How did you manage to have dinner with her? – I couldn’t resist asking.

- She came to me that same evening.

- She forgot her scarf?

- Yes, how did you know?

- We bumped into each other on the way out; she slipped. I suggested she go to the bar after finding her scarf.

- Why didn’t you go in with her? She wanted that.

- How do you know she wanted that?

- She told me herself that a nice young man helped her. Though, that evening, you would have just ruined everything with your naïveté and lack of understanding of the matter.

- What matter?

- The female nature.

- And you’re an expert?

- Oh, he’s a master! – Alfred interjected.

- No, I’m far from a master, but I try.

- And what was that movement you made, touching her ear? She calmed down so quickly.

- That’s my secret, but a secret only from women. I pass a light electric charge through a special point on her ear where several nerve endings converge, but before that, I need to call up as many good memories as possible in her mind related to the person who hurt her. Then, the brain sort of restarts, wiping out bad memories and replacing them with pleasant ones. The girl remembers everything, but forgets neither me nor the bad act of the guy.

- Isn’t that dangerous for their mental health?

- Not at all. I’ve been observing the first girls, and they’re all fine. Many of them are already married with kids.

- So, you come here every day to help them?

- In a way.

- And you don’t use their position to seduce them, then erase yourself from their memory?

- Strong arousal won’t let the brain overwrite memories.

- And what? You just leave after having dinner with them?

- Yes.

- And no one has figured you out?

- There was one… She was very determined.

- And what happened to her?

- I don’t know.

- And who trained you?

- A little bit from everyone, but there was one extraordinary girl, you can call her Master.

- And where is she now?

- She’s married, as far as I know, and happy.

- And you don’t know anything else?

- No, it’s nice to realize that.

- Why?

- What’s wrong with being happy for the happiness of someone who matters to you, my friend?

- Nothing, but you talk about it…

- You know, you have a chance with that blonde, Angelina.

- You think so?

- Yes, just keep an eye on her movements. Feel the boundaries of her personal space, watch her hands, hair, eyes. How she speaks, not what she says. These are the basics, my friend, but she remembers you.

- But how do I meet her again?

- Her friend’s birthday is in two weeks. As far as I understand, they’ll drop by here in the evening. If you need advice, I’ll be here. Now, I must go, my friends. – said the stranger and quickly left after paying the bill… Two weeks later, I was sitting at the bar, chatting with Alfred. The stranger appeared soon after. Angelina and her friend entered the restaurant. They sat at a table for four. Half an hour later, a man entered and sat next to Angelina’s friend. Before this, they had been whispering to each other and glancing at all the men entering. When some of them entered, they started laughing, even embarrassing those guys, while others they acted so unattainable and repellent that it seemed like they hated them with all their hearts. Sometimes Angelina played with her bracelets, glancing at a table across the room where two men in expensive suits were talking about some project. That entity appeared in my head again, painting images of the girls’ mocking laughter when I tried to approach them.

- So, my friend, – the stranger addressed me. – It’s time to meet the girl. See how she watches everyone? She’s bored. Now, you need to approach the waitress in a way that Angelina notices you. Look at her through the waitress, and then stop looking until you come back to us.

- What should I say to the waitress?

- Ask any silly question, like where the restroom is or something like that. You can give her a little tip, because she’ll help you with Angelina.

- Should I really do it?

- Go ahead, old chap.

- Then I’ll go, – I replied and followed the instructions. Returning to the bar, I turned to look at Angelina and saw her glance at me, hiding behind the menu, then quickly look away.

- Play with her, – said the stranger.

- Yes, it’s a good game, he’s right, – said a pleasant female voice, and I felt a light touch on my shoulder. A brunette, whose dazzling presence made both Alfred and me drop our jaws uncontrollably, sat down next to us.

- Good evening, miss, – Alfred was the first to recover. What would you like?

- Good evening, – I was able to say as well.

- Hi, Incognito, – she addressed the stranger. – Good evening, – she replied to our greetings. I want something tropical, but not too strong. Please, – she asked Alfred with a smile.

- Right away, miss, – the bartender responded, deciding to put on a juggling show. While he performed his tricks, the girl turned to me again.

- Incognito wants you to play with that blonde. She’ll wait for your gaze, and you should wait for hers. Otherwise, she’ll think you didn’t catch the signal.

- How long should I wait?

- About ten to fifteen minutes of that game, then you can approach.

- Can you order something for her? – I asked.

- She’s not alone right now, she’s with a man… – the strangers replied almost in unison.

- Alright, I’ll do that. And you…?

- Meet the old man, this is Master.

- The one and only?

- Yes, the one and only, now Mrs. Master.

- He only spoke well of you, – I said to the girl, noticing her embarrassment. She smiled. In the meantime, I noticed Angelina’s gaze. My dark side again painted me the picture of her mocking laughter. When Angelina hid behind the menu again, Master took my hand and said:

- Don’t be afraid, she won’t laugh… Girls laugh at the guys they like. It’s how they try to get attention. It’s time for you to approach. Fight that fear, those dark thoughts of failure, the nonsense your subconscious draws to prevent you from taking risks and being happy. Our brains don’t like to take risks because bad things might happen, but good things happen much more often, be braver! – she pushed me off the chair and said.

- Really? – I asked plaintively, surprised by her words.

- Yes, please, old man, she’s right, – added Incognito.

- So even she doesn’t know his name, but it seems they’re quite familiar… – I thought as I made my way to Angelina’s table. She smiled at me, and after I greeted her and everyone else, she suddenly suggested I join them. My even greater surprise was the appearance of that same waitress, to whom I had given a little tip when getting Angelina’s attention. On her tray was a fresh glass of whiskey, I took the glass and saw how Incognito waved at me. The evening ended wonderfully. We met with Angelina a few more times until one evening it smoothly turned into night in my apartment. I don’t want to boast further, but let me tell you from Alfred’s words what happened at the bar when I moved to Angelina’s table.

- How’s it going, Mrs. Master? – asked Incognito, taking a sip of tea.

- Everything’s great. You haven’t changed much, but since when have you been doing my work?

- Are you talking about that sweet guy? It was just a kind act, nothing more. What’s more interesting is how you found me.

- I wasn’t looking for you, but how surprised I was when it turned out to be you.

- I don’t quite understand.

- One of my clients told me a story about a guy who touched her ear, and she felt so at ease, but she doesn’t remember his face or name. Then other girls started mentioning it in their stories. I decided to find out who it was. I noticed how you ran your hand through that blonde’s hair a couple of weeks ago. Don’t you want to tell me anything?

- Are you talking about her, those poor girls, or yourself?

- So, you did use it on me?

- Just once, when you were still very foolish and deeply in love.

- You saved me?

- If you consider it that way.

- Why?

- Why save me, or what?

- Why do you do this? You don’t let the girls remember your face, how do you even do it?

- A little electricity, magic, and neurosurgery.

- But you’ll end up alone!

- Why do I need to be with someone? What would stop me from using my method on her in case of a fight?

- But don’t use it!

- The temptation will be too great, especially if I’m afraid of losing her.

- But you can’t do that!

- What do you want to hear from me?

- Nothing, really… I’m just glad it’s you, this strange guy. There’s something kind in you. I know you won’t harm them, but who will help you?

- Looks like I need help?

- You sit in a bar every day drinking tea, and in the meantime, you erase the memory of hurt and humiliated girls so they can be happy… How much pain do you let pass through yourself!

- Like Mr. X?

- Perfect! Don’t change the subject!

- I just want to know if everything is okay with you.

- Everything’s fine, we’re talking about you right now…

- No need. I’m fine. Everything’s as usual. There was a brief period of depression, but I’m back with people now. Don’t worry.

- So, what should I do with you?

- Nothing needs to be done. Just let me pay your bill.

- I won’t let you, not until I have another of those cocktails, – smiled Master and turned to Alfred to ask for a repeat. They talked until closing and parted in good spirits, but that night I saw them for the last time…

[valeriyshenk]

House in the mountains

Table. Chair. A room illuminated by a desk lamp. A typewriter next to, and partially replacing, a laptop. A man. A blank page. The watch on his left wrist did its simple job — measuring the time of life. And his name? Who needs it? Even without a name, this man exists, with his deeds, merits, joys, and sorrows. He sat, trying to come up with words, his last words on paper. Why the last? He had lost the remnants of inspiration and decided to end everything once and for all. Over the last ten years, he had heard so many heavy stories of betrayal, breakups, unrequited love, tyranny, abuse—basically, tales about the dark side of love.

He hadn’t seen his muse in a long time, not since he helped her after a painful breakup. Infidelity, illnesses, hospitals, trials, and, in the end, exhaustion wore her down, forcing him to apply his method of fixing her hair, and with it, came liberation, alongside, unfortunately, a cooling of her feelings toward her creator. He still kept the Master’s business card, but didn’t dare use it, simply not knowing why. His little house in the mountains was now surrounded by snow; he couldn’t return to the world. The place where his best works were born had become an island of apathy and hopelessness. It would have remained that way if not for a distant explosion…

The man stepped outside to see what had happened, but as soon as he opened the door, a huge pile of snow knocked him off his feet and tossed him back into the house, blocking the exit. The explosion had triggered an avalanche, part of which descended upon the house.

-Great,- the man thought, just as the snow in the doorframe began to shift. Very strange, as if alive, but only within the doorframe, until part of the snow fell to the floor and, before the tired man, appeared she — probably the cause of the explosion, the avalanche, a person who had miraculously ended up here. Of course, she could have just been skiing or snowboarding down these wild slopes, but it wasn’t clear yet.

After brushing the snow off her face, the girl took a deep breath and stepped into the house. A moment later, she began to fall to the floor, but the man managed to catch the exhausted beauty. Luckily, she was in a ski suit and helmet, so he only had to remove her gear and lay her down on the bed. Her light hair, with a golden sheen, ruthlessly hidden under the cap, now spread out on the pillow, reflecting the light from the lamp. Her flawless, velvet-soft skin, without visible imperfections on the exposed areas, suggested a rather privileged life for the beauty. Her petite hands, with a gorgeous manicure — not huge square claws, but simply well-groomed nails — were a delight.

The man rubbed her feet, neck, and nose with warming balm, covered her with a blanket, and went to check how much further he was stuck here. For situations like this, he kept a shovel in the house, which he took and began digging his way out. After struggling for a couple of hours, having thrown snow into the first room, he encountered several trees, knocked down by the avalanche, blocking his way upward. He needed to dig sideways to bypass the obstacle, but the man was already tired and decided to return to the house. After clearing the snow from the room, he changed clothes and sat down for dinner. He didn’t wake the guest, thinking she should sleep. Soon, he himself went off to the realm of dreams, where nothing but a black canvas was shown to him.

In the morning, the man was peacefully woken by an unexpected guest, whose frantic pacing around the house, loud stomping, and exclamations created an unbearable atmosphere.

- Who are you?! she asked when the man stepped into the first room, where the irritated woman was running around.

- I live here. But who are you, miss?

- I’m Ilain. Now, where am I?

- In my house.

- That I understood. But where is your house?

- In the mountains, where no living soul is around until spring.

- I know, that’s why I flew here by helicopter. By the way, where is it?

- Apparently, your helicopter exploded and triggered an avalanche. Lucky for you, you survived, and the flow brought you to my house.

- Lucky?! The helicopter exploded! So, they threw me out of the helicopter?!

- Maybe to save you?

- I don’t remember… We were just flying, it was fun, I was filming everything on my phone, getting likes, and now I’m here.

- Let’s leave it at that. We need to get out of the house. But, unless they send another helicopter after you, we’ll have to wait until spring to go back to the city.

- Then why are we waiting? Let’s get out of here!

- I’m waiting for breakfast, actually. And a little gratitude for saving you.

- Thank you for saving me, warming me, and not hurting me, but… I want to go outside, I think you do too. I wouldn’t mind some breakfast. Do you have anything to eat here?

- There should be something.

- Is there internet access here?

- There was, but most likely the avalanche knocked out the satellite antenna.

- And can it be fixed?

- First, we need to get outside, and then somehow find the dish. If it’s intact, we can reinstall it.

- And how much time will that take?

- I have no idea, - the man replied, cracking a few eggs into a frying pan, where they started to sizzle, turning into a nutritious breakfast. The man wasn’t afraid to light a fire in the house, since he had specially installed a longer chimney for such situations, going down the slope behind the house into a convenient cave in the rock face, at the foot of which his home stood, to keep it from being covered by a snow and ice flow. The ventilation also worked through that cave. The fuel reserves for the generator should last for several months in case the cable gets cut due to an avalanche. The only thing was, it was impossible to exit the house through the cave, as the passage was too narrow for any creature larger than a field mouse. He had spent several years building this system, and now it had proven its worth.

- Do you need help with anything?- the woman asked after a short pause.

- You could set the table if you like. The thing is, I only have one plate and a set of utensils. So, I guess I’ll have to eat straight from the pan in my own house… the man sighed.

- I can eat without a plate too, - Ilain smiled.- If I’m stuck in the wilderness, I should try it this way.

- Unexpected, miss,- the man replied. - Then, please pass me the chopping board. I’ll put the pan on it.

- Here, she said, placing the board on the table. Listen, do you cook soups?

- Sometimes. Why?

- How are we going to eat soup with one spoon? - Ilain laughed.

- Turn by turn, I suppose, since there’s only one plate. It would be kind of weird to eat directly from the pot, - the man replied.

- And who will go first?

- You.

- Why me? You’re the host.

- And you’re the guest. The first guest in this house, even though I didn’t expect you.

- So, even here, I’m special? Bon appétit! By the way, what’s your name?

- It’s a secret.

- Seriously? You won’t tell me your name? That’s kind of rude, don’t you think?

- The last girl who knew my name forgot I existed.

- And you decided not to tell anyone your name so that the girls wouldn’t leave? Strange logic, they won’t come anyway. How can you get to know someone who doesn’t tell their name?

- That’s the point, you can’t.

- How should I address you? What should I call you?

- There’s no one else here, I’ll understand you’re talking to me.

- Alright, but I’ll find out anyway. Besides, it turned out delicious. Is it because it was cooked on a wood stove, or am I just that hungry?

- I think it’s both. If you were on a diet, you’ll have to forget about it for a couple of days. I only have basic products here, and these eggs were the last ones. You can only get them from the farmer across the river, so until we get out of here — no more scrambled eggs.

- I’ll survive. The main thing is that we get out. The supplies won’t last until spring, will they?

- They will. Canned food, crackers, dry bread, water can be melted from snow, there’s gasoline for the generator too, but only for a month, and we still have two and a half months until spring. By the way, we need to check it; it’s been running for a long time.

- Are you saying we might not have electricity in a month?

- Why not? We’ll save. There are candles, and we can light the stove to keep the room lit.

- How romantic you are... candles, flames.

- The last romantic in these mountains.

- Do you live here all the time?

- No, just in winter.

- What about the rest of the time? Do you go to some island where all the women love you because you’re the only man? asked Ilayne, laughing.

- Why did you ask that?

- I once went to a relationship expert. She told me about her friend who lives in the mountains in winter and goes to an island in the summer where he bathes in the love of women.

- You realized it was a joke, right? And the Master knew that too.

- Yes, she was called the Master. Is that you? No way! I ended up in your little house! She talked about you like that, sounds like she misses you, even though she has a ring on her finger. What did you do to her?

- Nothing special, took her to her fiancé.

-And that’s it?

- That’s it…

- And you didn’t meet her in a café? Didn’t chat with her for hours? Didn’t talk about your books?

- You know the story of how we met too well. I wonder why she shared this with you? asked the man, pouring hot tea for his guest.

-Thank you, said Ilayne, taking the cup with both hands. After taking a sip, she continued, I went to her with a problem. I find it hard to communicate with men long-term. I change them, break up with them, because I can’t talk to them for too long. Either I meet those who burn out quickly during the honeymoon phase, or those who are boring from the start. I got disappointed, but when I went to her, I heard a story about you, and I realized that men still exist, that there are unusual, interesting, mysterious ones, not just walking wallets or consumers. I even dreamed of meeting you after the Master’s story.

- Here I am, I rarely fulfill someone’s dreams.

- You haven’t fulfilled it yet.

- Was the dream just one point?

- Of course. Meeting you. Point one. We can check that off.

- And the others?

- Getting out of the house buried by an avalanche. Point two. Still in progress. The rest, you don’t need to know. By the way, I assume you only have one cup?

- No, oddly enough, there are two cups. One on the desk, the other always clean in the kitchen.

- I’ll bring it, sit down, said Ilayne and ran to the other room. The man didn’t even have time to protest. The slender beauty, with her sporty legs, quickly appeared at his desk, where there was a sheet with one paragraph in the typewriter — all he had managed to write in two months here.

Iline returned to the kitchen just in time, holding the sheet of paper in her hands and a mug with dark tea stains on it.

- So, you really are a writer? But where did this come from? I didn’t see any more pages in the room. Were you seriously planning to do what’s written here?

- It’s embarrassing to admit, but yes. Just a few seconds before the avalanche, I was sitting, calculating the odds, weighing the pros and cons.

- Are you crazy?! So many girls and women are waiting for someone like you, I was even waiting, and here you are, sitting and writing this!

- Who better than me to know whom women are waiting for and falling in love with? I don’t think you can imagine how many love stories I’ve heard and internalized.

- And why do you listen to all these stories?

- I can’t stand women’s tears.

- You listen, and then what?

- I help them.

- How? You don’t even get to know them!

- I erase their memory of the painful breakup so they forget and move on, not wasting their life on regrets. I might have even saved a few from the greatest foolishness of their lives.

- Alright, you saved them, but why were you going to do it yourself?

- Because they forget me too. They forget that I helped, forget I existed, and go on with their lives. And make mistakes again.

- You mean you erase memory in the literal sense?

- Yes, I have a trick. All you need is to run your fingers through their hair and tuck a strand behind their ear. In the morning, they won’t even remember how much they were suffering over it.

- And nobody remembered you? I don’t believe it!

- They did. One even found me. Miss Jenny.

- And you asked her out? I know a Jenny who has been single for a long time. She used to look for a man but then suddenly stopped. She never told anyone about him. Do you think that could be her?

- Anything is possible. I asked that Jenny, who is probably your acquaintance, to come with me, but she refused. That was the last time I dated a girl. It was five years ago.

- That’s definitely her! She doesn’t let anyone touch her ears… That’s so strange… Everything was leading me to you, wasn’t it?

- Just a coincidence.

- No, this is definitely not a coincidence. We hadn’t met before?

- No, I assure you. I remember all the girls I’ve helped.

- You’re telling me that you’re a writer who lives in the mountains in the winter and helps girls, but you’re as lonely as possible? And that I’ve indirectly met you before, but now, after my helicopter crashed, and the pilot and assistant are most likely dead, I miraculously survive and end up in your house, which is prepared for an avalanche, with just a couple of bruises? And my fall distracts you from a foolishness that you should feel terribly guilty about in front of your loved ones, and now we’re chatting, drinking tea, and you’re telling me all this is just a coincidence?

- In this world, anything can happen. I have nothing else to say.

- If that’s all, then go dig us out!

- Alright, then you’ll do the dishes.

- Fine, let’s go, Iline replied, and the writer went to deal with the consequences of the avalanche.

Two days later, the path to the surface was dug, reinforced with planks that had been stored for such a situation, and Iline and the writer were able to climb up, look at the sun, and breathe in the fresh air.

- Beautiful, isn’t it? the girl asked.

- Yes, this is why I live here. It never gets boring.

- Do you think they’ll come for me?

- Most likely.

- I wonder how long I’ll have to wait.

- Are you tired of my company already?

- No, of course not! I just want to go home. You promised to fix the internet, didn’t you?

- Unfortunately, look over there, the writer said, pointing at the twisted piece of metal that used to be a satellite dish. The tree that had knocked it off its mast had crushed the dish with its weight, rendering it completely unusable.

- You’re telling me we can’t make a call? And not even show new photos to my followers?

- You can call. There’s a satellite phone in the house. But you’ll have to go a little higher to catch the signal.

- Bring it!

- Who are you calling?

- Home, so they can send a helicopter or other transport for me.

- Alright, the writer replied, then went back into the house. When he returned to the surface with the phone in hand, Iline grabbed it from him and started dialing.

- It’s not working!

- I told you, we need to go higher. Come on, I’ll take you.

- Let’s go faster!- Iline shouted, running up the slope. She was able to get through, and they promised to send a helicopter, but only the next day, because they were searching for her elsewhere.

- They’ll come tomorrow! Everyone was so happy! she said, smiling.

- Are you happy?

- Of course. What should we do now?

- Let’s go home, eat, and then... I don’t know, I’d probably go to sleep, the writer replied, turning off the phone.

- Not bad, but no sleeping. We’ll chat instead.

- Until I fall asleep.

- I won’t let you sleep, you can catch up on sleep later!

- Alright, time to head back.

- Let’s go, Iline said happily.

Evening came, and after dinner, Iline lay on the couch wrapped in a blanket, while the writer sat in his chair. The firewood in the stove crackled, and the dancing flames lit up the room because the electric lamps were turned off to save fuel.

- Are you coming to see me in the summer? -Iline asked.

- I don’t think so.

- Why?!

- What for?

- I asked first!

- But I’m the host here.

- And I’m the guest!

- I don’t see the point. By summer, you’ll have forgotten all about me.

- No, I won’t!

- You’ll forget, you’ll forget.

- How can you be so sure? Wait! Are you planning to use your trick on me, fixing my hair?

- That’s unnecessary. You’ll do just fine on your own.

- No! How could I forget you? You saved me. Besides, I can check another box off the list. We made it to the surface.

- Alright.

- Come visit, I’ll introduce you to someone so you won’t be alone.

- Why would you want to do that?

- I should thank you somehow.

- You don’t have to, but if you can’t live without it, buy me a new satellite reciever.

- Maybe it’s better to buy some dishes and cutlery for twenty people?

- So I can drink from different mugs every day and eat from different plates?

- For hosting guests, actually. Why are you like this? There must be a deeper reason than just being tired of people.

- That is the reason. Who hides in the mountains, where there are no people, if not someone tired of them?

- But you don’t have to hide, do you? You could learn to live among people.

- Trust me, I know how. I live in the city during the summer.

- When was your last book released? More than a year ago, in August.

- You haven’t written anything except that scary little paper in a year and a half? Don’t you think it’s time to change something?

- I have no inspiration.

- Where do you get it from?

- I used to get it, but it’s not there anymore.

- Where did you get it from?

- From my muse, she forgot about me.

- Let’s find you a new one! It’s not a problem!

- Easy to say, Iline.

- What does she need to be able to do? I know so many girls, I’ll set you up with any of them, just say!

- Nothing special, just play with me.

- Play?! At what?

- My game. Talk to me about feelings, about love, answer the questions that arise in my mind, tell me anything about herself and her life, the main thing is that she likes my company and the game isn’t a burden to her.

- And what does she get in return?

- Books, drawings, compliments, help with things, I don’t know what else I can offer.

-You’re telling me you haven’t found a single girl to replace your muse?

- I didn’t search.

- See! You didn’t even search, but practically any girl would agree to that!

- Any girl, huh? Miss Iline, for some reason, I don’t believe you in this matter.

- If there was internet right now, I’d gather you twenty girls, at least! I’d do a casting, set probation periods, anything. Girls love to be admired, when their very existence, their stories, inspire art. I’d be your muse myself!

- Then why the casting?

- Why... Do you think you’d choose me so easily?

- There’s no one else here, and we’re talking. You saved me too, plus inspired me to dig through the snow.

- You’re saying you wouldn’t have climbed out without me?!

- Why would I need to climb out?

- You’re really strange.

- Only now you noticed?

- You know, I’ve known for a while, but with every answer of yours, I’m more and more convinced of it.

- Yeah, that’s me.

- And what about me?

- You’re extraordinary.

- And that’s all?

- For now, yes. Of course, you’re bright and make the world around you change according to your desires and vibrate in tune with your extremely active and, I’m sure, big heart.

- Better. I’m starting to understand, it seems, what the Master found in you.

- She didn’t manage to find anything in me, we just enjoyed our meetings.

- Do you want to see her again?

- She’s already married.

- But she’s not trapped, right? She’s not locked in the basement just ironing her husband’s shirts and cooking food?

- No, but it’s best not to get close to her.

- I don’t even want to ask why you think that.

- Well, that’s good. I’ll be back in a moment, said the writer.

- Where are you going?

- I need to go to a special room for solitude.

- Sure, to that room, not running away from my question?

- Exactly to that room, and to escape the question. It’s a happy coincidence.

- Go already! said Iline. When the writer returned, she was already asleep. He adjusted her blanket and fixed her hair, as he had done for other girls in the past, then went to sleep. The next morning, after a pleasant breakfast and some chatter, they heard the sound of helicopter rotors.

- It’s for me! We need to get ready! exclaimed Iline.

- Of course, I’ll help, replied the writer. They went up to the surface, where snow was falling and the wind was picking up. The helicopter wasn’t private, and judging by the stickers, it was a rescue service helicopter. The helicopter circled the house, Iline waved at them, but the rescuers flew away. She shouted, but no one returned. With tears in her eyes, she turned to the writer and hugged him. At that moment, both of them were swept back into the house by the snow. The writer hit his head and lost consciousness. When he woke up, one of the rescuers was sitting next to him, pulling a syringe with something from his bag, along with a blood pressure monitor. Looking around, the writer couldn’t find Iline.

- Where is the girl?

- What girl? asked the rescuer.

- The girl who was with me, I was holding her when the avalanche knocked us over.

- We dug around the entrance, but there’s no one else in the house but you.

- She was here. Her helicopter crashed a few days ago.

- Everyone on that helicopter died. We found it yesterday morning. The pilot, his assistant, and a young girl. They broadcasted about their disappearance on the radio.

- It can’t be…

- You’re alright, buddy. We cleaned and bandaged the wound on your head. Change the dressing at least once a day. It will heal soon. And we need to go.

- Thank you. Why did you decide to dig here?

- We saw you. You were just standing and watching us. Meteorologists predicted an avalanche due to precipitation and the movement of the ice cap at the top of the mountain. So, we were sent to check all the houses in the area. When the snow stopped, we came back to pull you out. Lucky that you’re alive. Good luck.

- Yeah, lucky. Thanks, - said the writer. The rescuers flew away, and he surveyed the house. Coffee was poured into two mugs, a frying pan and a plate with an untouched breakfast portion were on the table. The blanket on the couch neatly covered the pillow, while the cover on the chair was wrinkled. In the entire house, he didn’t find a single strand of hair from a woman. The last outgoing call from the satellite phone was made two months ago, to the publishing house number. The sheet of paper from the typewriter with his last words was never found by the writer.

[valeriyshenk]

Touch

The clock on the wall showed that it was well past midnight, but it was invisible in the room with the lights off. Only the small digital clock on the laptop screen reminded its owner that it was time for bed. The screen illuminated her sweet, yet at the moment focused face. Her well-groomed, delicate fingers made the laptop keys click quickly and cheerfully, changing the pages of search results that still failed to satisfy the girl. Time passed, and her little eyes, darting over article texts and looking at photos, began to tire and begged for rest, causing her eyelids to slowly close. Then, the girl began to yawn, and the idea that had kept her awake for so long no longer outweighed the need to get some sleep. Turning off the laptop, she fell asleep. The blanket gently covered her, her body dressed in pajamas, as a good girl’s should be, the body she took care of, loved, and maintained, which was almost perfect, combining both a healthy look and the ability to wear any clothes.

In the morning, when most people were already at work, doing their dreaded tasks, Jenny woke up, having stayed up late the night before due to her internet searches. A quick run, a shower, a light breakfast, and scrolling through the news were the usual rituals for her to wake up and prepare for a new day. However, over the past week, she had been receiving messages from her friends asking about her well-being and mental state. How are you sleeping? Are you having any bad thoughts? You know I’m always here for you? and other similar questions made her feel strangely as though something had happened that she didn’t know about, but others did. So today, Jenny decided to ask her friend Diana about everything over a cup of coffee, requesting a meeting.

- Hey! Are you okay? Diana asked, a little scared, as she entered the apartment.

- Hey! Yeah, what’s wrong with you? Jenny replied, smiling.

- I’m fine, I just worry about you, especially since you invited me over. Don’t you want to go outside?

- Why wouldn’t I want to? What’s going on? Can we talk? I made coffee and stopped by the bakery half an hour ago.

- Of course, we can. That’s why I’m here.

- You’re scaring me, Jenny said, handing Diana the cup.

- And you’re scaring us.

- How? I’m fine.

- Aren’t you struggling because of Maxim?

- No, should I be?

- You shouldn’t, and that’s good, but you bounced back so quickly from your breakup that we think you’re hiding something from us, or worse—have you fallen into something? Do you have wine or some other alcohol at home?

-  Yes. But it’s only 10 AM. Isn’t that a bit early?

-  How many bottles?

- One. It’s sealed. Did Maxim do something that should make me go crazy or get drunk?

- What did he do? Are you serious?

- No, we just decided to break up.

- Just?! So, the fact that he didn’t show up at your wedding, and the fact that we searched for you for a whole day afterward— that’s just breaking up to you?

- I don’t remember that.

- It sounds like you need a psychologist. I have the business card of a good one. I got it for other reasons, but looks like I’ll have to make use of his professional skills first.

- I don’t need a psychologist. I’m fine. It’s just…

- What? Tell me...

- I was up late last night searching for the plot of a movie or a book because I can’t understand something.

- What is it?

- I remember a man touching me, he gently ran his hand through my hair, fixing it and tucking it behind my ear. That’s all… I don’t remember his name, his face, or even where we met. It doesn’t seem like a dream because I can’t forget it. I sleep well. Then I thought, maybe it really was a dream or maybe during a meditation I imagined it after reading something from a book or a movie. But now, connecting your messages, your outrage about our wedding with Maxim, which I don’t even remember, and this stranger, I’m sure he was real.

- Did he do anything else to you? No bruises or scars on your body?

- No! I’m perfectly fine! Do you think I’d forget if someone attacked me?

- What if he slipped something in your drink? You ran away when Maxim didn’t show up at the wedding, maybe got drunk at a bar, and someone sat next to you, slipped something into your drink? And now you don’t remember anything.

- No! That can’t be it… or can it?

- Anything is possible. How about we get you checked by a doctor?

- Checked for what?

- For all the possible consequences of your disappearance for a whole day. I’ll call now, you’ll have the examination, and we’ll know everything by the evening. Don’t worry, the doctor’s good.

- Now I’m starting to be scared...

- It’s going to be fine...

- No! Everything was fine, but now! Now it turns out I don’t remember a full day of my life, and I don’t even remember the worst thing my fiancé did! And you want to send me to the doctor!? Jenny cried.

- Should I call?

- Yes, call! I don’t want to be scared! I’ll go crazy if I don’t know what happened!

- Don’t cry, please, Diana said as she dialed the number. After speaking with the doctor and scheduling the appointment, the friends went for the examination. The gynecological exam and the hair test revealed nothing. No one had attacked Jenny or drugged her. After thanking the doctor, the girls left the hospital.

- Are you feeling better, Jenny?

- A little, at least now I know the worst-case scenarios were false. Now we need to figure out who this mysterious man is that I met that day.

- Maybe it’s better to forget? You felt good, and you will feel better tomorrow. Me and the other girls were worried you were grieving over Maxim, but you didn’t even remember him. Every heartbroken girl dreams of that! And now you want to dig into the truth. Maybe this man is an angel? Maybe he saw the injustice done to you and rewrote your memory with his touch?

- Then I definitely want to see him again! Jenny said with a smile.

- There! You finally smiled! Coffee?

- Alright! The girls walked into their favorite café, and when the waitress brought them their coffee, her tears began to drip onto the tray...

- I’m sorry... I’ll replace it, she said, trying to hold back her tears.

- It’s fine, sit down, Jenny said.

- What’s wrong? Diana asked. You’ve worked here for a while, haven’t you?

- Yes, and you come here often...

- So, what’s going on?

- I got sent pictures of my boyfriend with another girl... the waitress said, crying harder.

- Maybe it's his sister?

- No! I don’t think he’s sleeping with his sister...

- And who sent the photo?

- His real sister. She's nice, I guess she decided to help me.

- This is all so strange... Why is his sister spying on him?

- I don’t know...

- Never mind, Jenny said.

- What should I do? the waitress asked.

- Nothing! Rejoice! Diana said. You’ve been helped to realize you’re with the wrong person.

- Miss, may I get my coffee? asked the man at the neighboring table.

- You’ll wait! Diana shouted in reply.

- Alright, but I think the girl should work. It’ll help.

- How do you know it will help her?

- Trust me, I know, my coffee will help her.

- And how’s that? With tips?

- Why not? I’ll wait, but only if that coffee is brought by this girl.

- Then you’ll have to wait a long time! Diana replied. The man sat at his table, waiting while the girls continued talking, reminiscing, and sharing their experiences of dealing with breakups. Time passed, but the man still didn’t leave. When another waitress came to him, he ordered only water and a signature dish, refusing the coffee. When the café was down to just Jenny, Diana, and the man, the administrator came up and asked the waitress to work. She stood up and took the coffee order from the man, thanking Jenny and Diana first. They paid and left, with Diana throwing the man a nasty look and muttering something rude to herself.

- Hey, maybe I should crash at your place tonight? Diana asked while Jenny was calling a cab.

- If you want to.

- Yeah, it’s just been such a strange day. Everyone’s getting dumped, hurt, and tonight we’ll have a girls' night.

- Great, the cab will be here soon.

- I feel bad for that girl at the café.

- Yeah.

- And that guy! ‘Bring him coffee,’ she’s just doing her job! He definitely has no one!

- Didn’t it seem strange how he acted? Waiting for her to bring him the coffee.

- Who knows? Maybe he wanted to hit on her, seeing her crying. Probably thought he could use that and act like the good guy.

- Do you remember him? Jenny asked after a long silence. The cab hadn’t arrived in the last ten minutes, there was no one outside, and Diana was writing messages to someone, only getting more and more smiley with each new reply.

- No! Why remember such a nobody?

- What if something happens to the girl?

- Should we go back? When’s the cab coming?

- Here it is.

- Ask him to wait, I’ll go check. Diana said. She returned about five minutes later.

- What’s going on?

- The girl left. Let’s go home.

- And him?

- He left even earlier. How he got past us, I have no idea...

- So, what now?

- I asked the administrator to call her.

- Okay. I hope everything will be fine with her.

- Yes, everything is fine. She left through the back entrance, was already in the car, on her way home, when the administrator called.

- Then, let's go home.

- Yes, but can I go to my place? Sorry, Jenny, I just got a message… He made dinner, but if you need me, I’ll cancel everything.

- Don’t worry. Can we change the address? she asked the driver, to which he nodded approvingly.

Leaving Diana behind and returning home, Jenny decided to go to bed. She pushed all the thoughts away, even though they were numerous, strange, and unsettling. She put on her pajamas and fell asleep under the warm blanket, which lovingly and attentively covered her every night.

In the morning, after going through her usual routine upon waking up, Jenny decided to visit the café again to check on how the waitress was doing. Maybe helping her would be easier than figuring out her own strange situation. Approaching the waitress, and seeing her smile in response to the greeting, Jenny asked:

- How are you today? Is everything okay?

- Yes, thank you, everything’s great.

- You’re not still upset about yesterday?

- What happened yesterday? Did I overcharge you?

- No, no. I just thought you seemed really upset yesterday.

- A little, yes, I dropped a tray of dishes, but that was after you left. They’ll deduct it from my salary, but otherwise, everything’s fine. Would you like to order?

- Sorry, I’m running late. Do you know if the man who sat next to us yesterday comes here often?

- He’s very nice, but it was his first time here. He even fixed my hair, I think, when I tripped and dropped the tray. He helped pick everything up. Actually, I don’t remember much from yesterday, I must’ve slept badly.

- Okay. Sorry to bother you. I’ll go now.

- Goodbye.

Jenny decided to walk home. The path wasn’t short, but it passed through a park, so she could take a stroll and think. When she got back to her apartment, she sat down at her laptop.

- So he really exists! And he was in the café yesterday! How does he do it? And how can I find him? Jenny asked herself as she typed search queries about the mysterious man, whom no one remembered, but they’d definitely met. Among the stories of aliens, abductions, and similar things, Jenny didn’t find anything. So, she decided to start a blog on one of the most popular websites in their city. She wrote about her story and the situation with the waitress. By evening, the blog had gathered thousands of views, and stories from other girls started pouring in. And in all of them, one detail stood out – this stranger would fix their hair. Moreover, all the girls described their sad stories, which they hadn’t considered particularly heavy until their relatives or close ones had pointed it out. After meeting this stranger, all the pain went away, and they couldn’t remember the details, with some even feeling like something had changed. Jenny herself couldn’t remember the man from the café, only that he was blonde, and most of the girls described his light hair. No one knew where they had met this man. All the girls lived in different districts, worked in different companies, went to different gyms, ate at different restaurants, and even their current or ex-boyfriends didn’t know each other. So Jenny began asking the girls about their favorite places, where they usually went when they felt down, and started checking on the map which cafés or restaurants were nearby. By morning, she had a search zone.

Taking a couple of days off work, Jenny went to bed and in the evening set out to find this man. She visited all the places where one could sit and have a drink or a snack, searching for depressed or crying women, girls, and scrutinizing every blonde she encountered along the way. She returned home around four in the morning, tired and having wasted so much time. The blanket and pajamas once again warmed her and protected her from everything, even from bad thoughts.

In the morning, after a shower, while checking her blog and email during breakfast, Jenny received a message:

- Good day, Miss Jenny. Do you really want to find me? May I ask why?

- Is this him? thought the girl. No! It’s probably just someone playing a prank on me, after all, this is the internet, who knows how many crazies there are in the city. But what if it is him? How can I check? Should I reply or not? Jenny wondered, sitting in silence for about an hour before deciding to write back.

- Good day. How can I know if this is really you?

- Your mother booked a restaurant for the wedding and really wanted you to marry Maxim, but your father was against it. Now, I guess your mother listens to your father more often, but I’m not sure. It came about ten minutes later.

- Yes, but many of my relatives and guests knew about that.

- Then why did your relatives treat you like that? The message came five minutes later.

- Why did you?

- I wanted to help the unhappy, deceived girls, including you. Do you want to meet again, or did I misread the situation?

- I do, but I’m scared. I don’t know you.

- Then forget it and move on with your life. I’ve done my job, your wound is healed, and the experience will help you avoid such situations in the future.

- No! Do you know the café near the park? Not many people go there during the day. Can you come in an hour?

- Agreed, I promise you all the answers.

After this message, Jenny closed the laptop and sat, frightened, for about fifteen minutes.

- What should I do? Why did I invite him to meet? Should I tell Diana? No! I won’t tell her, she’ll call the police or worse – attack him...

Finally deciding to go, Jenny called a taxi. When she entered, a man sitting at a table in the corner waved at her. He looked around thirty, with light hair, wearing jeans and a shirt, with a watch on his left wrist. He was sitting, drinking tea, eating a pie, and no one would guess that he could be something extraordinary.

- Good day, Miss Jenny, the man said, helping her sit by moving her chair.

- Good day, she replied, embarrassed.

- What would you like to order? Just like last time?

- Probably...

- Coffee and a pastry, please, the man said, signaling to the waiter.

- Thank you, Jenny responded.

- What did you want to ask?

- Who are you?

- Do you need a name or something? I’m just here incognito.

- No, you can stay incognito, but there’s something else that matters to me. My friend thinks you’re an angel.

- I’m just an ordinary person, a writer, though not the most famous, the man replied with a smile.

- Then how can you help like this and erase memories?

- I listen to a girl’s story, then retell it to her, but in a way that the events affect her future situation positively. Sometimes I don’t change the facts much, just for better reinforcement, and then...

- Then?

- By this time, the girl usually stops crying and starts getting ready to leave. She’s upset but already considers me a friend, not so dangerous, which allows me to fix her hair and tuck it behind her ear, where there are nerve endings. After stimulating them, I can create a small gap in her memory, and her brain will record the recent memories where I told her the story in a positive light. I have a thimble with a needle, through which a small electric pulse passes.

- Are you conducting experiments on people?

- Don’t worry, I also have a degree in neurosurgery. I can show you my diploma if you want.

- Alright, then why are you doing all this?

- As I said, I just want to help.

- Do you erase your girlfriend's memory too?

- Even if I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t do that.

- How will your potential future girlfriend be different from us, from me?!

- Your coffee – said the waiter at that moment.

- Thank you very much – replied Jenny, taking a sip.

- Nothing, it just won’t work with her.

- Is it really that simple?

- Why complicate things?

- Why don’t you have a girlfriend?

- Why should I? We might argue or even break up. She would suffer, and my method wouldn’t be able to help her.

- Maybe you just wouldn’t suit each other, that happens too. Are you really going to avoid girls just because they might feel bad after breaking up with you? Isn’t that a bit much? You seem like a romantic.

- Maybe.

- Strange, I’ve never met someone like you before. Is this noble, in your opinion? But it seems like you don’t even give girls a chance to get to know you, you decide for them, erase their memories. You’re dangerous.

- Maybe you’re right, but I don’t have another solution to the problem. Imagine how many stories of unrequited love I’ve heard just in your city?

- Not more than any girl who has at least five or six close friends.

- You’re wrong.

- Can you tell me about the first girl you helped? What happened to her?

- She’s married, with two kids. She met her future husband after I helped her fix her memories. Not right away, of course, but I think I helped. She was standing on a railroad crossing and was about to jump in front of a train.

- How long have you been doing this?

- Fifteen years ago, the idea came to help girls who are crying, like by magic. I can’t stand women’s tears, and children’s even more so. It’s very sad when I see tears on someone’s face.

- I see. Are you a psychopath by any chance?

- Do you think if I were, I’d admit it and give myself away?

- So, yes or no?

- I don’t think so, but it’s not for me to judge. My pie and tea are almost finished, and you still have one more question.

- Okay. Can I ask anything?

- Yes. You’ve already asked it.

- Seriously? Are you playing with me?

- A little. Alright. I’m listening.

- What will you do next?

- Right now, or in the future?

- In the future.

- I’ll go to another city. You’ve already told everyone about me here. Now, girls will be afraid of men with light hair.

- I think it’s the other way around. Girls dream of meeting you, so you can help them.

- Then they’d better not look for me, but for a professional in love matters. The first girl I helped was actually doing that. If she’s still doing it now, she’ll definitely help. She’s a master at it.

- Alright, and what will you do now?

- I’d stroke your hair, but now you won’t let me near you. So, I’ll finish my tea, pay the bill, and move on. Want to come with me?

- It’s tempting to go into the unknown with a person who can erase memories and won’t tell me his name, but no. I’ll manage on my own. Thank you for the help and for the meeting. Will we see each other again?

- Do you want that, Miss Jenny?

- I don’t know, to be honest...

- Then fall in love with the bad boy, break up with him, and go cry in a bar in some other city. Maybe we’ll see each other.

- Isn’t there any other way? You showed me how not to fall in love.

- Then, I guess, I’m no longer needed. Goodbye.

- Goodbye, but remember, girls want to be loved, and they want good guys, maybe someone like you...

- If anyone knows about good guys, it’s me – the man sighed sadly and left the café. Jenny ran out after him a couple of minutes later, but his silhouette dissolved in the crowd. He went to find new broken hearts or perhaps seek a cure for his own, who knows. Jenny ran her hand through her hair to tuck a few stray strands behind her ear because they had come loose from her hairstyle. Maybe she wanted to forget the pain this story brought her, but she didn’t know where exactly to press...