My ghost kingdom...

Part six. SMILE OF FORTUNE. Horses wandered through the ruins. The village horses neighed loudly, anticipating spring. They walked among the remains, into which the rich monastery farmsteads did not turn immediately after the Revolution, but at first became the collective stables of the commune and for a long time were the winter barns of the state farm “Svetly Put”. With the beginning of the current century, the foundations became the property of an unknown owner or did not belong to anyone. Horses loved to be here, to assert independence and free will. The birch tree, a friend, stood on the side of the crossroads of three roads, waited for spring and dressed up, combed her hair, spread her green branches in the wind - kerchiefs. The girl leaned against a birch tree and looked from the hillock. Far away and below, carelessly abandoned by two streets of houses, lay the village of Ushakovka. The home for generations of relatives of HER FAMILY was the HOUSE, her property and inheritance. - I don’t need to decide anything. - The girl thought. - And let the parents not worry so much. I will find my own life. People will be happy to see me. Today I realized that I am not always a stranger in this village, among the village life that is still incomprehensible to me. The girl straightened up energetically, ready, without waiting for her friends or a passing cart, to immediately run from the hill to HER village. And the noble Lady, whom some consider Fortune and honor as a goddess, others call Luck, and only some call Freebie and associate with her own destiny, stood behind the girl, next to her, and smiled incomprehensibly and vaguely. Better than others, the noble Lady knew how changeable people’s hopes, their desires, dreams, aspirations can be... And very often she turned out to be not completely wrong... ...The man stood nearby, spoke for a long time, sublimely, descriptively. His dreams and plans were expressed vaguely, but rushed towards her, to the girl, his interlocutor. The man had been married for a long time, was unhappy in his marriage, and remained within the family a good family man and the best father to his children. The neighbors in the house, if necessary, would get to know their neighbor from the best and most exemplary side. Meeting very rarely and by chance HER, a fickle but attentive interlocutor, the man changed and talked about dreams, longing, and distant goals. She stood nearby, listened, agreed and thought that the events of her life were incomprehensibly and strangely connected, as if the current of a large river was carrying her away, helpless, continuously, carrying her to the same shallows. She seemed to be happier already, wintering in the village. I was friends there with a house, a cat, and an elderly gas boiler. Or not? But her own survival, and even the existence of the neighboring old women, depended on her actions. She didn't let anyone down. But she was rarely happy. Business, fate or the persuasion of her parents returned her to the city, home, to live with her parents again. Confident city life did not become its own. The incomprehensible melancholy returned. The man stood nearby. He said. - He doesn’t confess his affection and warm feelings to me. - The girl decided. - Spring will come and pass, the culprit of various thoughtless actions and many human troubles. Let this man continue to remain in his family. I will not answer his “call”: touching, unspoken, incomprehensible. - She smiled a cautious smile. - The village tractor driver Nikolai was also often embarrassed, but accomplished his feats decisively. He broke in on an old tractor (dragon ?) to the village, cleared the road, saved the village from snow and ice. And he did not dare to admit his sympathy for me, he adored me from a distance, blushed, was embarrassed, was silent. Oh, what am I making up, - the girl was embarrassed. - What nonsense! - She was completely embarrassed. “Am I dreaming again about ravines, arable land, a tractor cabin?... The interlocutor noted the excitement, spoke for a long time and sublimely. The girl was tired. And indignant. She said goodbye casually, coldly. Left alone, she looked around. The houses are tall, the avenues are vast, there is no freedom. And life around is small, ordinary. The buildings surrounded the square, they dug into it, like they were dug into it and lined up from the crowd in an uneven row. The houses became a street, ran into the distance in squares, then it seemed from a distance that they became long like a snake. They were courtyards with alleys. Deep wells of high-rise buildings - lonely, uncomfortable. The girl was silent and thought. Her own life did not return. She caught the gaze of a young saleswoman in the lingerie department, mocking, very feminine and contemptuous. Outside girls do not sympathize with the loss of fans. The life of a kiosk saleswoman is only prolonged and created by purchases. “I’m tired of living in the city,” decided a girl named Marina. “I’m looking for competitors, I see enemies.” - I felt tired and old. She decided that it would be good for her to immediately gain old age, an age approaching ninety-five years, and live far from people in a hut, conjuring with the forest and herbs, having experienced at her own age many of the troubles and hobbies of youth, to look at them calmly and painlessly. She recalled that she came to the store. She sighed, old age was beyond her reach now. She walked along long corridors of goods and shelves, was capricious, looking for what she needed, guessing enemies in the saleswomen: mocking and secret, unfriendly. Walking under the fire of cross glances was unbearable and difficult. She forgot about goals and necessary purchases. For some reason, I looked for and asked for a bag of disposable tea, and refused the clumsy, bulky packs with tea bags inside: huge, expensive, glossy and branded packaged. I became incomprehensibly funny in this big store. She walked further and further, walked through the store, searched, and noted the surprise of those around her. And she understood herself as if she were exposed to public and uncomfortable viewing. Everything around was alien, unnecessary too. Then she started shopping, took a basket and put various unnecessary things in it. I went to the checkout with my basket, paid for my purchases, sighed, worried about the amount of the purchase, the huge bill. And without much hope, she asked a young, sad saleswoman: “I was looking for one single bag of tea flavored with jasmine or bergamot.” I found everything in your store except this. - We have it at the checkout. - The saleswoman answered her. “Then she looked at her customer, who was upset about something, smiled, instantly looking good, and added: “I, too, often can’t find the thing I need in our store, I even get lost.” I'll give you a bag of tea now. And you, while you haven’t gone through the checkout yet, can refuse unnecessary purchases. - Marina raised her head, looked at her interlocutor, and smiled back at her. And suddenly she realized that her own life was rapidly returning to her, because next to her there was a languid, exciting and tender scent of multi-colored and delicate roses. Their aroma floats and mixes with the smells of the department selling tea, coffee and various other imported and colonial goods. The aroma of spring flowers fills her own little life with delight, hope, and joy. Reminds: Spring will definitely come if men remember women, and women think about flowers. And spring will come to the CITY too!