Mission 777 Possible - Marina Sprouz

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for what? This is not necessary. What did he want to say by this? That I am not needed because he is married? He probably wanted to say that he has everything: a wife for sex, a job for money, and I… why does he need me…

      I didn’t want to write to him…

      Scrolling through Facebook5 feed, Marianna sees a response: “you are instruments.”

      In other words, our bodies are used for something, both me and him, we are instruments.

      Then some force wanted me to call Alex, and I was absolutely sure that I wanted this. I suggested meeting to Alex, maybe he wouldn’t have decided, but some unknown force made me cautiously offer first. I have a small private office in the center of town, we’ll meet there. We agreed on the time, and Alex promised to come. The meeting time has come. I am already waiting… the meeting is at fourteen o’clock, maybe he will break away between training sessions and come. As promised. There are my icons in the office that I brought from the Svyatogorsk Monastery, they will protect us. He will come.

      It’s already 2:10 PM… I’ll wait a little longer, he’s delayed. If it didn’t work out, he would have called. It’s 2:35 on the clock… He’s not here. He won’t come… Marianna plunged into emptiness, not even despair, it’s death.

      I’m dead… A strange feeling when you die. I was still walking down the street, doing something, but I’m dead. I’m gone now. He didn’t come, and it doesn’t matter why: “whether he had a horse, or didn’t know the way, mother wouldn’t let him…” – like in the Ukrainian song. It makes no sense to me now, he doesn’t need me. I came home, sat down on a chair, put my hands in my hair, and began to squeeze my head. Phone call. It’s him. Marianna grabbed the phone.

      A busy silence on the line, sounds, – Marianna, sorry, it didn’t work out… – Alex mumbled – pause, – There was a meeting… – Alex justifies himself.

      – I understand… it’s okay, these things happen, – Marianna said in a dull voice.

      The conversation ended.

      I understand he lied, just didn’t want to come, but he called, felt that I was “tearing my hair out.” It doesn’t matter anymore… already… I’m dead.

      “Turquoise sky – blue sky,

      Love froze with white frost.

      And when love left – the colors of red,

      Our rose faded – all withered…”

      Like Smoke

      Forgive him – for his lack of love,

      For all the torment and pain,

      His eyes and fair hands —

      You’ll remember them in winter time.

      Forgive him – for his simplicity,

      Of the human soul, so immature;

      And for lacking bold impulses —

      Like the forceful flow of a man.

      Forgive him – for his lack of love,

      For his indifference and neglect,

      And for your nights’ suffocation,

      From your tears, “broken” into blood.

      Forgive him – you release him…

      Let him be happy and healthy,

      And his lack of love – you’ll recognize;

      Towards you it will return – as love.

      ***

      He doesn’t give you flowers,

      And doesn’t drink in brotherhood;

      Without him you’re worn out,

      He doesn’t come, doesn’t appear in dreams.

      I’ll howl like a wolf,

      I’ll pine and drown

      In tears, I’ll shatter my sleep,

      Like a tightly strung string.

      I’ll forget and curse,

      All the flowers not given,

      That stranger, like the moon’s dream,

      And mine, like a dog’s life…

      At dawn – dawn burns,

      Boundless – without embrace,

      Living without him is in vain,

      What do you breathe, what do you eat?

      He won’t give you flowers,

      Won’t come and won’t be here,

      In the glowing sky – to freeze,

      And disappear, like smoke fades away…

      Tourist Agency

      It was the best tourist agency in our small town of Semivetrinsk. Everything here was top-notch for her. Marianna, in her fox fur coat, was already sitting in a leather chair across from the agency’s director. Incidentally, the director was also the agency’s only employee.

      Bella Alexandrovna, wearing glasses, was like a fairy who would now choose a tour for Marianna, and magic would happen.

      “Where are we flying?” asked Bella Alexandrovna.

      “Let’s go for a five-star, Egypt, the best one, check the last-minute deals.”

      With enthusiasm and inspiration, Bella Alexandrovna searched.

      “Got it! Hotel ‘Royal Grand Sharm,’ seven days. Departure on January 7th, for Christmas.”

      “Perfect, the sooner, the better.”

      “I’m preparing the document package.”

      I Choose Hopelessness

      I choose hopelessness…

      Like sailing without an anchor in the dark;

      There is a place on Earth for death,

      And there is a place for life on Earth.

      My careless choice

      Fell on the heavier fate;

      With a painful, anxious tear,

      With a mad trace that is more important.

      I choose the path of separation…

      Anxiety, tugging at a lock of hair;

      Cold days, with chilled hands,

      And faith, to bring back the past.

      I choose without excess…

      And somewhere a golden dome;

      And outside the window, a wreath of cherries,

      And a table in a simple room.

      I choose a quiet evening…

      Instead of pompous bustle,

      And a night of freedom, where there are candles,

      And the day’s gaping crowd…

      At the Airport

      The first people Marianna saw upon arriving in Sharm were two girls from Ukraine.

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