The letter

      Ignoring the cold in the room, enjoying the sound of the rain, she picked up a pile of envelopes and placed them in piles. They seem to be ordinary envelopes, but they have one difference: each has its own color. Tucking a brown lock of loose hair behind her ear, the blue-eyed girl smiled playfully. “What am I doing with him,” the young woman thought while she was looking for her favorite feather. The cold crept under the plain dress, causing a storm of goosebumps on the skin. But for her it’s like tickling.       Finding her black feather, with which the fair-haired woman tickled little children more than she wrote, she squinted and bit her lip. “What should I write about?” Blue-eyed looked out the window. Raindrops land and hit the ground, windows and trees. The gray clouds recede into the distance and become clearer. And the young missus seems to come to life with the passing rain. The memory of old friends remains with her to this day. And she thinks about her loved one all the time!       The rain is still falling, but in small drops, you can’t even hear any sounds. And the birds began to sing and fly. Gray clouds carefully cover the sky from human gaze, becoming clear, white, and merciful. The rain passes, taking the young woman's sadness with it. And the sun slowly appears in the sky. “I’ll write about this!” The sun gives warmth, but no one can give the warmth that her Sky had.       The Mrs. liked to write quickly and did not care much about handwriting. But now the fair-haired girl carefully wrote out every word so that there would be no problems with reading it.       “I wonder if he still remembers me?” A thunderstorm has begun in my soul! All feelings were like a raging hurricane. Her fingers are covered in ink, to which she grins. "He always teased me about it." The satisfied grin did not disappear from the pale face. The look is hazy. It is impossible to recognize the thoughts of the young housewife from it.       For some reason I wanted to sleep. Putting the pen aside, the missus folded her palms into fists and tiredly rubbed her eyes. And at that moment she reminded the man who had quietly walked in of a small and defenseless kitten. Let her sit with her back to him. He knows her too well. If it weren’t for this woman, the man would still be a bachelor and known throughout Sicily as a Don Juan. However, fate decreed otherwise. And his beloved is his wife.       And she writes and writes, putting strength into her hand, without fear of tearing the paper. Only sometimes the blue-eyed one tucked her unruly curls behind her ears and looked out the window. “Perhaps I’ve gone crazy?!” The young woman put down her pen again. It’s even good that she and her husband moved to London while he lives on the other side of the world. Sighing heavily, she reluctantly crumpled the letter.       Isn't he tired of standing there? That's right, he doesn't want to disturb her. The man knows who his wife is writing to. After all, she has nothing to hide. My husband knows everything, and has been for a long time. And it is not surprising that, despite his willpower, resentment awakens in his soul; sometimes he is very irritable. Then the Mrs. stops doing nonsense and doesn't waste her time. Attempts to smooth out the letter were quickly abandoned. She never noticed her husband, who was still quietly watching. Taking the orange envelope, the missus casually folded the letter and threw in a couple of dried herbs and flowers from the windowsill. Scratching her straight nose, she irritably threw away the sealed envelope. She felt terribly sleepy. But there is no desire to fight, and Morpheus took the fair-haired girl into his beautiful kingdom of dreams.       The man carefully laid her on the bed and covered her with a black robe, which had previously been neatly folded in the depths of the closet. His gaze fell on the folded letter, and a sigh of some annoyance or tenderness escaped from his chest.       Later, the young missus woke up on the bed; instantly realizing what was going on, she rushed to the table. But there is no letter on it, nor under it, nor near it. And there was no feeling left on the pale face. Now the young housewife is puzzled. She wasn't going to send him! Because she loves her husband, or tries to...       Looking out the window, the owner of the house saw a clear sky with almost no clouds. The sun is no longer visible from the window. But this does not mean that the fog will not take over and envelop London this night, greedily hiding the city's inhabitants as its property. And in her soul there is a whole storm of emotions. Looking at the bed, the blue-eyed woman smiled sadly again. The past reminded her of itself, honestly, upsetting her. The Sky left her forever.       The Mrs. smiles again, but this time with joy. And he hurries down to the living room. And he’s not at all ashamed of his wrinkled dress and disheveled hairstyle—everyone belongs here.       “Good evening, Mrs. Archery,” Lampo, as usual, sat down on the sofa in a prosperous manner, which the owners of the house had long been accustomed to. Nodding weakly, the fair-haired woman continues to smile and sits down on the chair next to her husband.       “G, you didn’t say that we would have a guest,” the fair-haired girl said clearly with feigned dissatisfaction. — Maybe some tea? - Curious, the young missus had already decided to go to the kitchen, when her husband’s warm palm grabbed her wrist and easily pulled her back into the chair.       “My stomach can’t stand one more cup,” the keeper of the Thunderstorm seems to be complaining. After all, it’s not every day you see them! “By the way, you overslept Ugetsu’s arrival,” having betrayed his departed friend, he hastened to close his eyes, so as not to wake up the sleeping handsome man.       "Is it true?" Now the missus was truly dissatisfied, surprised. "How are they doing?" She so wants to incinerate G with her gaze, and at least give him a damn. He probably knew! But now it’s more important to know something else.       "There will soon be another addition to the Asari family. The child will be given his mother's surname — Yamamoto, if that tells you anything,” the Hurricane guardian began unwillingly. To which the blue-eyed one rolled her eyes, like, don’t start. “It seems that Alaudi is also going to settle down,” the young woman rubbed her palms contentedly. It's a shame she won't be there. “And the boss remains a bachelor for now,” the hostess of the house pretended to ignore it. But deep down in my heart I was happy, like a cat that had eaten sour cream. Meanwhile, in the small town of Namimori, they have no idea who is hiding there.       "That's how it is!" Satisfied with this answer, she hastened to change the topic: “What’s wrong with Damon?”       Whatever the guardian of the Mist was, he was still her friend. And she remembers Elena well. How can you not remember your best friend?! She will rest in peace.       "How?" The lazy Guardian was almost asleep, and then this happened. “He lives better than all of us put together,” Lampo will respond with contempt, for which he will receive a stern look from the young housewife. Not wanting to listen to moralizing, he turned his back to the young people and quickly fell asleep. This is what he does best.       G looked timidly towards his wife. But the woman didn’t even pay attention, thinking about her own thoughts. But she could not look at one point for a long time; Turning to her husband, the woman inquired about his thoughtfulness. And she didn't particularly like the answer. And it doesn’t matter. Giotto will take care of the letter as one takes care of the most precious, but he will not write an answer.

***

      The old man, over seventy, was quite tired of life, despite its wonderful variety and the last thirty-five to forty years of rest. He doesn't remember exactly. He has a large family: a wife, a daughter and a son, who have their own families, that is, three granddaughters and one grandson. His family has no luck with boys. During these years, he buried three sons who did not live to reach school age. And one grandson who was not examined. For a long time he remembered how his daughter-in-law almost took her own life. It happens.       From the pocket of his old suit, with a hand trembling with age, he took out a long-forgotten letter. More than half of the entire text is no longer on paper. And you can’t make out just as much.       Primo smiled sadly. The old man knows that his beloved has long been in the grave. “I’m alive! I will die with a smile!” She was rarely afraid of anything, she was strong, with her weaknesses and tried to hide them from others. Giotto is also happy, but most of all the now gray-haired man wants to meet his beloved. After running his sad gaze over the old lines, he carefully, like a fragile vase, hides the letter back.       The old man went out into the yard. The wind blew sparingly. I reminded him of a friend who was quick-tempered and generally did not have the best qualities. But he remained a good person. Maybe even better than Giotto himself. Oh, this G, Primo smiled faintly.       The Guardian of the Hurricane himself rested in the damp earth with his beloved wife. The red-haired man died happy. The other Guardians didn't complain either. Everyone had difficult times, and they were replaced by fun and joy. However, no one could survive Giotto. Only Primo didn’t really know about Damon, but he sincerely hoped that everything was fine with the Fog.       There is no more wind. The sky is clear. The sun has almost set. The perfect time to leave life. Old man Ieyasu carefully sat down under a small tree. Old age, or rather time, does not spare anyone. But he doesn't regret anything.       "I'm coming!"       And again all his friends are in front of him. Just as young and with fire in their eyes. Even Damon is here! He stands proudly on the sidelines and turns away. And next to him is Elena. She's glad to see him. Not enough... Pale and small women's hands easily lay on men's shoulders. Giotto turned around timidly. But the beloved is still small.