There are days like this one, fresh from very morning, sunny and bright, clouds like drawn above Springfield. Everything seems to be in a faultless order of nature. On crossing is only green light, no waiting. In subway is always enough space to sit down comfortably, no queue in Tesco or jam at bypass, fillet without bones... Just a perfect day. Even the lady at the post office was smiling! And you can find a mobile phone right away you reach inside a bag - Eva is calling.
“Hi Eva! How have you been? So good to hear you -”
“Hello, I’m Eva’s husband.” Cut in a men’s voice. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you, Eva died yesterday.”
“- again.” my mouth unwittingly finish the sentence.
The scene around me made a few circles, silence followed.
Green, red, green… Traffic light was slashing the time.
“Well -” He tried. “ - Hope you are well. Good bye.” An automatic voice at the station was less robotic.
Green, red, green…
I barely knew her, half a year to be exact. I’ve met her only twice in my life, still, she was kind of significant to me. When I first bounced at her, she was throwing up in the hospital bathroom. I was drafted to the same place and with the same intention right after a nasty injection and she occupied the only useful pottery in that tiny room. After a few flushes, little chat, rinse and a few swearwords we find out we have a similar lot and none of us is pregnant. That sterile acquaintance could end right there between white tiles, but, you know, vomiting is sort of “bonding”. We exchanged emails, numbers and promises to call each other if one of us will feel really rotten. Honestly, I never wanted to do so. I guess she had the same idea too since her birthday night two months later. She texted me an address of the particular hospital, floor level, door number and how old she was that night. I went to visit her right away next day with a big bunch of yellow roses. She was in a terrible state, I have to say, except for her look. Her every blink without eyelashes whirled the ocean of hope and conciliation! We talked about ordinary things like what kind of butter is the best for baking, how her son doesn’t like a dill sauce or on which one island is the highest peak of Japan. She didn’t mention anything about what lies ahead, how she had seen her fair share or discovered the meaning of life. No sorrow, no complaining, no advices nor emitting some enlightened Truth. She simply lived.
Time contracted and expanded, pulsing crowd, red, green, red… and I was waiting for a green light. I missed 4 trolley-buses. Some grumpy pensioner had sat on my handbag and totally smashed my snack inside. It started to rain and my mobile run out of juice. But – everything seems to be in a faultless order of nature, another perfect day!
In memory of Eva S.
“Hi Eva! How have you been? So good to hear you -”
“Hello, I’m Eva’s husband.” Cut in a men’s voice. “I’m sorry, but I have to tell you, Eva died yesterday.”
“- again.” my mouth unwittingly finish the sentence.
The scene around me made a few circles, silence followed.
Green, red, green… Traffic light was slashing the time.
“Well -” He tried. “ - Hope you are well. Good bye.” An automatic voice at the station was less robotic.
Green, red, green…
I barely knew her, half a year to be exact. I’ve met her only twice in my life, still, she was kind of significant to me. When I first bounced at her, she was throwing up in the hospital bathroom. I was drafted to the same place and with the same intention right after a nasty injection and she occupied the only useful pottery in that tiny room. After a few flushes, little chat, rinse and a few swearwords we find out we have a similar lot and none of us is pregnant. That sterile acquaintance could end right there between white tiles, but, you know, vomiting is sort of “bonding”. We exchanged emails, numbers and promises to call each other if one of us will feel really rotten. Honestly, I never wanted to do so. I guess she had the same idea too since her birthday night two months later. She texted me an address of the particular hospital, floor level, door number and how old she was that night. I went to visit her right away next day with a big bunch of yellow roses. She was in a terrible state, I have to say, except for her look. Her every blink without eyelashes whirled the ocean of hope and conciliation! We talked about ordinary things like what kind of butter is the best for baking, how her son doesn’t like a dill sauce or on which one island is the highest peak of Japan. She didn’t mention anything about what lies ahead, how she had seen her fair share or discovered the meaning of life. No sorrow, no complaining, no advices nor emitting some enlightened Truth. She simply lived.
Time contracted and expanded, pulsing crowd, red, green, red… and I was waiting for a green light. I missed 4 trolley-buses. Some grumpy pensioner had sat on my handbag and totally smashed my snack inside. It started to rain and my mobile run out of juice. But – everything seems to be in a faultless order of nature, another perfect day!
In memory of Eva S.
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