Despair of an imaginary presence

      The mood was somehow melancholic. Either the fall was to blame, or just life. The routine day after day penetrated more deeply into every action of Nemi. There was a certain calmness in this from the realization that everything seemed to fall into place. The kitchen no longer seemed so alien, the bed became homely soft, the road to the distillery no longer required the intervention of a map, Einar… caused completely mixed feelings, which, perhaps, was the reason for this “something melancholic”.       The morning turned out to be rainy, grey and quiet. There was only one of the maids in the house —Mitzi— and even then, in the absence of urgent matters, she was melancholically reading a light romance novel in the kitchen.       “If you can, I would let you go. You’re bored anyway.”       The young girl quickly put down the book, straightening up:       “I don’t think that…”       “You can tell me if there is some urgent matter. Otherwise, I would let you go.”       The temptation was great. Mitzi wanted to leave, after all, who would refuse a sudden day off? But Mr. Einar’s cold, angry face floated before her eyes, forcing her to refuse the offer. She shook her head uncertainly.       “If you are worried about Einar, I will say that I insisted on myself. There will be no reprimand for you.”       Nemi continued to insist, without knowing why. Mitzi looked at Nemi uncertainly, replaying all the risks and opportunities in her head, still going to agree.       Perhaps Nemi wanted to cook in herself, to be alone, so that at least for a day to regain control in her own hands. After all, she is not used to being under constant care. It will take time, probably a very long time. And if it does not help, you will have to fork out for a hotel or fill your head with the search for a rented apartment.       “OK, just don’t tell Atala. I’m more afraid of her.”       Nemi smiled, feeling some relief:       “Of course.”       Mitzi was not the only employee of the distillery, but she was the only one constantly in the house, so with her departure, Nemi seemed to finally be able to breathe in fresh cool air. Only now it has also become lonely. But there was still something pleasant about it.       Nemi made herself a light snack, ate in silence, cleaned up after herself and decided to get to work. Thoughts of tomorrow’s lack of foresight with Quinn were spinning in my head. Previously, she was always not averse to flirting or making eyes, but this time the meeting did not cause her jitters about the upcoming game. Perhaps such an effect arose from the first real date in a long time, perhaps such games have simply become uninteresting to her now.       Was the city tour with Einar considered a date? She could not answer this question unequivocally to herself. It seemed to her that for him the walk was something more. But it could just seem. The real question was whether she would like him to consider it a date. “What nonsense is this? What am I even thinking about? I’ve known him for less than a week. Yes, I can’t.” — flashed through Nemi’s head. She rubbed her eyes, realizing that she had made absolutely no progress in writing the report in the last thirty minutes. “That’s it. No stupid thoughts.” Nemi looked around the living room, stretching her eyes, and now she had already paid all her attention to the empty document in the laptop.       It was getting late in the evening. My eyes hurt, my legs were numb, and my brain was already refusing to work. I had to succumb to captivating thoughts and make the rest of my affairs the problem of tomorrow. You need to stretch and walk.       Putting the laptop on the table next to the sofa, Nemi stood up, stretching her unpleasantly pricking legs. She looked around the living room: there was not enough light, and probably because of this her eyes had a particularly hard time. Only two lamps were lit: one in the kitchen, the other next to the sofa. Warm orange light enveloped, making you forget about loneliness. The fresh air from the window invigorated, pleasantly cooling the skin. The semi-darkness gave comfort, evoking something very pleasant and so naive. But it was still… dreary.       Nemi went upstairs. She managed to explore only the first floor and one—her—room on the second. I wanted to get to know the house better. After all, how can you call a place your home without knowing it? She was not the hostess here, but guests also need a sense of unity with the place in which they sleep.       In addition to her room, there were three other doors on the second floor. Nemi entered the one closest to the stairs. A simple single bed, chest of drawers, wardrobe, two windows, desk. The decor is very simple but neat. “Probably the maid’s room. Or another guest room,” flashed through my head.       The next door led to Nemi’s room, so she went to the opposite part of the second floor.       The first room turned out to be more spacious: with a double bed, also two windows, but facing on different sides, a large dark wardrobe, and a small armchair, with a round table standing next to it. There was a pen and some letters on it, but Nemi didn’t touch them. The room was habitable, at least before. She, too, breathed longing, as well as from Nemi.       The door to the next room was somewhat different from the others. The handle was a little worn, and the wood was repainted. “Probably Einar’s room.” The hand froze, not pressing the handle, while Nemi considered whether to enter. On the one hand, no one will know — she is alone. And what would she do? Just look around. Is it forbidden to go in, take a quick look at everything and get out? On the other hand, of course, it is to some extent ugly. She felt that she was on the verge of breaking into her personal life.       The door opened hesitantly, carefully and quietly. “I would have locked it if I didn’t want to let anyone in.” The thought comforted me a little, allowing me to take one step inside, completely opening the passage for myself. The room was very similar to Nemi’s room: a large double bed, a large dark wood wardrobe, a large cluttered chest of drawers, a large bedside table, a large yellow lamp, a large chandelier, large windows, a large desk with a candle, covered with letters, papers, folders around a laptop lying on the edge, another wardrobe, but with books, and a large brown armchair, next to a table with a chess game started. Nemi didn’t feel as tiny as she had on the first day, but this room seemed huge. However, unlike the second one, there was no longing in it, it was pleasantly warm.       It was dark. Nemi turned on a small desk lamp that illuminated a bookcase and a table with chess. In the hostel in Osdakshin, she lived in a small room with three neighbours, so there was very little personal space. The wardrobe was shared, and there were only two desks: I had to study in turn or on the bed. Each had its own small chest of drawers next to the bed, more like a small bedside table with a drawer, so there was nowhere to store a large number of books, and things in general, there was nowhere — textbooks and notebooks occupied all the free space. For the last three years at the university, Nemi has been using an e—book gift.       That’s why books were also depressing. There was a very small room in my parents' house, converted into a personal library. There were three narrow bookcases in it, filled with books in several rows. It was possible to read on the floor, leaning on a cabinet, with a small ever-overheating flashlight that attaches to the book. Or sit in the living room on the ground floor on the sofa next to the window until the sun goes down so much that it will be impossible to see a single letter without getting up to turn on the floor lamp.       Nemi sighed, looking at the books on the shelves, and walked over to the chess table.       The party was left somewhere in the middle. Several “eaten” pieces were already standing next to the board. Nemi froze, studying possible moves. It became very quiet, there was only the rustling of the wind outside the window. It was probably going to start raining soon.       Black was clearly in a losing position. It didn’t look like it was possible to win a game for them, even by running around the board, delaying time. Perhaps that’s why the party was abandoned. The king of black was standing on f7, he was threatened by a knight on e5. Below him, on e4, was one of the pawns. Nemi moved the king to e6. The obvious option for White was to put the queen on g4, further aggravating Black’s situation. Was there any point in running around trying to avoid the inevitable? I don’t think so. The king on e5 “eats” White’s knight.       “It was necessary to move the king to d6.”       Nemi almost jumped on the spot from surprise. She turned around: Einar was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. She couldn’t figure out if he was angry and annoyed that she had entered his room without permission. For a few seconds, she just stared at him, trying to sort out the emotions in the dark. He didn’t add anything else, and she didn’t apologize.       “It would just delay the loss.”       “This would give you time to think.”       “Since the game was not finished, there was enough time to think.”       Einar said nothing.       “Go.”       He walked over to the table.       “But I will win,” Nemi said a little hesitantly. “There is a checkmate in two.”       Einar only gestured invitingly at the board. Raising her eyebrows a little, Nemi went to White’s side and moved the queen to f5. Einar put the king on d4. For some reason, after hesitating a little, Nemi moved the queen to d5.       “The Kiss of Death.”       Einar smiled.       “Checkmate.” Nemi knocked over King Einar with her queen.       The Kiss of Death is one of the most popular mats in chess. It was one of the first learned by Nemi when she was just learning to play as a child with her father. The queen, protected by another piece, approaches the opponent’s lone king, “kisses” him, and gives up the ghost.       Einar stared at Nemi intently, a little apprehensively and scrutinizingly, still saying nothing. Nemi felt uncomfortable. She pursed her lips, thinking that this was how he was hinting to her that it was time to end this invasion, which ended in her victory, into his personal, and leave.       Thunderstruck outside the window.       Einar went to the door, saying:       “Sit in the armchair, I’ll go get a chair. Let’s play a full game.”