[моё] My World
🗝️ EDGE OF WORLDS
How one rain broke the perfect schedule
“Love is absurd, complete nonsense.” That’s what I thought just yesterday.
My life is a big habit.
From childhood, I got used to doing everything on time.
Everything on time.
No, I’m not complaining.
On the contrary, I’m bragging.
There are few people who can live by a schedule.
Many of my acquaintances live in some incomprehensible way: there’s no order in anything.
And I’m doing just fine.
Even great.
Here’s an example: I’m never late for anything, ever.
I arrive on time.
There’s a notebook in the side pocket of my jacket.
It contains my plan of action for the whole day.
Of course, there are force majeure situations; there’s no escaping them.
But I try to minimize them.
Every day at the same time I go to the place near work.
Exactly at 8:05.
I like black coffee.
Americano.
No milk and no sugar.
There’s order in my head.
And things are good at home too.
Again: I like everything to be in order.
All last week the weather was clear.
But this week something went wrong: clouds covered the sky.
There was no rain.
But I always carry an umbrella with me.
As usual, I came to that café.
Its name is beautiful, I’d even say kind: Na zdorovye.
The bartender held out his hand:
— Hi, Andrey. You’re as punctual as always. We could set our watches by you.
I silently held out my hand in return.
The bartender added:
— And as usual, still silent?
Everyone in that café knew me: from the bartender to the security guard.
The waiters silently brought me a freshly made americano.
I silently drank it, asked for the bill, and went home.
In the doorway I almost bumped heads with a girl.
Without paying attention, I walked past her.
Didn’t let her through.
Didn’t even look at her.
Why look at her?
I walk through life with my head held high.
I feel no love for anyone.
There used to be girls.
I remember one even said those words: I love you.
I wanted to argue with her, but didn’t.
I just erased her from my life.
To me, love is absurd.
Complete nonsense.
Love doesn’t exist; it isn’t real.
Someone made up that word, and that was that.
Once I had an argument with someone.
He was trying to convince me:
That love exists. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, it’s pleasant to be near a person, and so on.
I started asking him questions like this:
Say I’m riding in a taxi, talking to the driver. I enjoy talking to him, and it feels good to be рядом with him. Does that mean I love him?
After what I said, people stopped talking to me.
Well, screw them.
The next morning, as always, I wrote out my plan of action.
But today, for some reason, I decided to stop by the café for a drink.
And the whole day went to pieces.
Everything absolutely fell apart in my hands.
As always, same café, same spot.
Only the people were different.
It felt like the entire café staff had changed — new faces everywhere.
What difference does it make to me who serves me?
Today no one brought the coffee for a long time.
I forgot: new people don’t know my habits.
I decided to go up to the bartender.
I heard a cheerful female voice.
Before I could say “I want coffee,” an overdressed girl cut me off.
The first thing I saw was a bright pink scarf and hat.
A short jacket.
I’d seen her before, definitely.
She behaves provocatively: shouting, laughing loudly.
Everything slips from her hands.
She’s so absent-minded.
She has lots of friends.
Imaginary friends who say warm and beautiful things.
In reality, they’re all lying.
No one loves anyone.
I know her name is Lena.
Looking at her, honestly, I felt nothing.
I try to remember where I might have seen her — no luck.
My thoughts were interrupted by a text message:
Heavy rain and hurricane-force winds are expected.
I thought: Finally, rain — at least I’ll need my umbrella.
I caught a familiar smell... chicken?
I remembered: it was that girl I had bumped heads with.
As funny as it sounds, for the first time in many years I decided to change my plans.
I became curious.
More precisely, I took an interest in the girl after I heard her beautiful laughter.
A guy walked up to her.
He kissed her on the cheek, hugged her.
My mood changed.
I felt sad.
I wanted to leave.
I heard thunder.
The downpour started.
Shouts pulled me out of my thoughts.
The line was arguing.
The bartender was gone.
Most of the shouting was aimed at Lena.
She may be a little laughy, a little merry, but she’s naive and very kind.
A bright girl.
And suddenly butterflies in my stomach began to sing in chorus.
For the first time in my life I felt something I didn’t fully understand, but I liked it.
I remembered: I had seen her in this very café.
She likes cappuccino and lots of cinnamon.
I heard her say that cinnamon reminds her of the village, of her grandmother who used to make delicious pies.
Lena loves them very much.
I don’t know why, but I got up from the table and walked to the bar counter.
The line.
The bartender still wasn’t there.
I took some buns from the fridge, sprinkled them with cinnamon, and gave them to Lena.
I said the phrase I apparently had always dreamed of saying:
This one’s on the house.
Even though I never did get my americano, her smile broke me.
I don’t need coffee.
I don’t need anything.
I only want to see her radiant smile.
I didn’t hear the noise, people arguing.
I looked only into her angelic eyes.
To my surprise, she was looking back.
In her eyes I saw happiness.
The bartender came back, I was shooed away, and he started serving customers.
Lena ran off without ever waiting for her coffee.
I wanted to go back to my table, but my coffee wasn’t there.
I understood: I had no more reason to stay here.
Besides, the angel had flown off in a direction unknown to me.
I heard thunder.
I saw lightning flash.
I got worried.
I quickly headed for the exit.
Someone was shouting something at me; I wasn’t listening.
Umbrella in hand.
The rain was pouring like a bucket.
Lena was trying to open an umbrella — it wouldn’t open.
I walked up.
I didn’t say a word.
Opened the umbrella.
We’re close.
We’re standing together under the umbrella.
I hugged her by accident.
She hugged me back.
My world completely fell apart.
My life changed.
Her smile changed me.
My habit... now I’m different.
I want to say it, though I’m afraid to, but I will:
I want Lena to be with me for the rest of my life.
To make me the most delicious cinnamon pies.
And yes, I’ll say it outright:
I hate americano.
After so many years, I realized — I don’t like it.
Lena admitted the same:
cappuccino is a tasty coffee, but I’m sick of it.
Too much foam.
Cinnamon in coffee isn’t tasty at all.
Her words brought us together.
Cinnamon pies are our world.
After that rain, we’re happy.
We’re together.
We live.
We’re a family.
I’m the happiest person alive.
Thank you for not leaving.
And I could have stayed the same gloomy man living by schedule.
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