Love

I open my eyes. Yellow ceiling, warmth, light snoring at the side. It’s better not to stay in the tent in the morning - you will fall back asleep. I sit down, turn my head, smile. From under the sleeping bag next to me, only the top of the head with black hair is visible. I get dressed, carefully slip out. It’s cold, I approache the fire. It’s very small - none of those who woke up can do a normal one. I smile again, remember my exam day for a forest title. Night, a bag of sticks, a burnt jar tied to the branches. I look around, look at the crafts of others. It's funny, I take out matches. Teal, and there is fire in the jar. A bottle of water in my pocket, sand on the road. Loud whistle, the exam begins. I look carefully at the road, my friend is joking. Crossroads, the fire in the jar is going out. We throw in the more sticks. He would have done a better job - a real professional. But it's more fun with a guitar near the fire. Chords and songs... Loud, quiet, sung by the low voice of the counselor. You close your eyes - there is a bastion in front of you, and a familiar motif in your head. A trap in the forest - he wanted to boast, distract. There was a small hole, but it was difficult with leaves and sticks. The beginning of winter. Light snowfall, orienteering. It's cold, I shudder - a jacket is thrown over my shoulders. I smile, drink from someone else's thermos. Tea. There was no black, we bought it with raspberries. He pours it on his hand, throws it into the cauldron. Curses - some landed on his sneakers. I laugh, hug someone else's guitar. My fingers hurt - iron strings. I look at the papers, I will need to write everything down in a notebook. Watercolor. The brush is dipped into the water, then into the paint. It's scary - I haven't drawn for a long time. The first stripe, the second, the third - the night sky. Pines. If you look up for a long time, you will feel dizzy. Cookies and cinnamon buns - everyone took out sweets, but no one eats. Songs. He sings - almost a musical invalid. I told him, but he did not listen, continued to try. He plays, clamps a complex chord. A familiar melody, the words fly from the lips by themselves. Eye to eye. He falls silent, grimacing - the phone on his knee turned off. Does not remember the text. I sit closer, the screen lights up again. Two voices. A huge crowd - I get lost. He calls by name, I recognize his voice anywhere. I see the top of his head, wave my hand. He catches me by the elbow, pulls me closer. A quiet "you will get lost" right in my ear. Goosebumps. Cool water, early morning, mid-summer. He complains that his parents tore up his favorite tent. Mud, shovel, tunnel. A flashlight in his hands, a downpour behind the walls. It's cold, I want to sleep. He brings pâté and laughs – I am angry. I lie down in my sleeping bag, yawn, look up. Yellow ceiling, cold, guitar next to me. I close my eyes. It's all just a dream. He’s with someone else.