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We got up to my abode rumors about how you have to be so to live, if you forty with a tail. Yes, you are my God Well, how many people can be a problem! We heartily sorry, heartily. There’s face floated there eyebrows Bryl down to the knees, and knees with fear also sagged. This is hell, and not life, babonki! I sob with you.

She went to the mirror, meticulously inspected flews with nosogubami, foot firmly closed the scales far away … Everything you need – is hanging, it is not necessary – it is necessary (nedoschipanny mustache, grabbed it immediately, of course). But in general, a generally – though where the butterfly. Though unload wagons, though borsch to weld three hundred people, what else does that? And, precisely, happiness something, love something supernatural at the moment no, this is the feature of all, and I’d forgotten, but this is easily remedied. That would be the main thing – that the brain does not limp with Bryl, the heart so as not subsided from the worries outside, not covered with the patina of the soul (stamps, yes, but why run), otherwise the truth Khan.

And I remembered my women Shura, my great-aunt. There was a dizzying novel in 82 years, with the wedding, the move to the neighboring village and followed the funeral of a young man (10 years, it was younger, clear falcon).

We met in a romantic setting – in line for testing. Whether sugar, or biochemistry, I do not remember. Bab Schur remembers. And he did it, then, “I had noticed,” (from the words of the victim). And he began to “walk.” And it was necessary to go from the neighboring village. 20 kilometers a minute. And it connects young hearts hoary ferryman, then there is a bus between the villages teeter on the magical schedule, which knows only the archangels and angels, gray-haired ferryman, but not just a man.

The eldest son of “groom” two months non-stop love drove his father, seventy-two years “svidanki”. Then I do not stand the “costs” and put the question bluntly: “You, Dad, or marry, or already do not take Alexandra Efremovna head!” (And gasoline is not gratis!).

A head women Shura had already decorated the small “lamb-chemistry” fiery carrot color body – no less fiery, bloody velor robes in the brilliant lightning, legs of the eternal felted slippers pereobulsya in leather, stored for a “special case” in 1955 of the year. Were preparing for the funeral, and got wedding, it happens.

Bride for the wedding was ready, the groom as usual – forced. For older children did not survive the passions and married parents in one day. The village council has come half of the village widows and sprightly razvedenok, to touch other people’s happiness and find hope. We found her that day all. Bab Schur was krimplenovom veil and dress color “ivory”, stored for burial. Fatah, however fought, it was conquered: “I gave birth to three children, and the wedding I never had, the war, the virgin – leave me alone!”. All and behind.

At the wedding, sang and danced two villages. Children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. In the distance, weeping widows. Button accordions smoked, moonshine brewed right there, in the bath, the stored strongly enough. Pier was a week.

The ten years that have lived like a dove, young, we went to visit them on the fly. Anniversary weddings celebrate. Bab Shura always with hair and in a fiery coat, a young husband with neatly cropped on arrival eyebrows.

And then he died. Fast. Diabetes. And she did not believe. Children took the women to the Shura itself, in her native village. She’s still alive. Dye your hair, do not go, the truth is, but is still waiting for its “milenochka”. He does not believe, does not remember the funeral, nor move, but it’s for the best. Anyway, see you soon.

And you all about their flews, in forty years. Che got.

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