The sun sets tomorrow

      In a small country town somewhere in the east of England, peace and tranquility reigned. People strolled along the colorful and still warm streets, not thinking about the coming change in the weather and the fact that soon a slight chill would dominate the streets, turning into a cold winter. The faces of the lovely ladies blushed, while the gentlemen bestowed all sorts of compliments on them, paying attention only to their eyes, saying that they concealed a whole world, which was often made of rot and lies. On such a warm evening a lot of people came out to bathe in the rays of the still summer sun. Somewhere in the square, a crowd gathered, listening to live music and occasionally performing dance numbers. Everyone was having fun and having a carefree time, knowing that they would spend the next day in the same way, with a downward smile on their faces and in the company of friends in which everyone would flatter and maliciously envy each other, but in no way show it. All this tinsel could entice anyone, for who does not want to have a good time in the flow of joy and indulge in oblivion? Many could fall for such a tempting bait. But not everyone could afford it. Two-faced people could take to themselves anyone who had good money, connections, education or just came into this world with a charming appearance and was well-built. Any man would be welcomed by young ladies if he was wealthy or handsome, any girl would be welcome if she knew French and had a rich father. But if an ordinary poor man or a drunkard came to these people and asked them for a couple of pounds for a loaf of bread, he would immediately be sent away in disgust, like a stray mutt that was just looking for a warm lodging, just to survive one night. There's always a flip side to the coin, and here it's hypocritical people, poverty and crime; all masked in dust, under the guise of other people's wealth, happiness and prosperity. This is not a capital city and there is certainly nothing of interest here for ordinary people who have come from far and wide just to see the sights. So there was no point in fighting it, as most people thought. No one cared about vagrants, people dying of hunger and cold, fainting in the streets. No one cared about other people's misfortunes and no one ever needed them, even the so-called “friends”, in the secular society, never helped each other, even if they asked for help, they immediately received a dismissive refusal or a made-up story that they were busy or unable to help. Although everyone knew it was a lie, hiding everything behind a screen of helplessness was much safer than telling the truth. And now one poor and shabby man needed help, but no one would ever be able to provide it. In one of the best and cleanest houses in the town lived a small family of only three people. Frankly speaking, it would have been better if it had not existed at all, because it was too disgusting to live in such a miserable existence in such an obscene place, not only for dwelling, but even for waiting out a downpour, as some people who passed by such an inconspicuous apartment, in which the light burned in the evenings, occasionally blinking. In fact, they were partly right, the place in which this small family lived was really awful. The room was practically empty, the walls with yellow, almost faded wallpaper, ready to collapse at the breeze. In the corner, somewhere between the old stove, black with ashes, and the flimsy window, that let the cold into the house, there was a bed. It was as stiff as steel and as creaky as the oldest swings that had been standing for at least a couple of decades without children willing to ride them. In the middle of the apartment stood a sofa, upholstered in blue terry upholstery, not inferior in its rigidity to the bed, but the boards that had played the role of armrests all their unfortunate “life” decided to show themselves at last, tearing the unstable material. In some places this poor product, which served for relaxation and pleasant rest, had been tattered and torn for a long time. Somewhere, away from the azure-colored furniture, was a makeshift kitchen, though it was hard to even call it a “makeshift kitchen.” A pair of once-beige kitchen nightstands had either fallen off their doors or were hanging on by a thread. The black countertops were full of dirt, which the young mistress scrubbed off as best she could. The stove rested peacefully between the cabinets, it seemed that it was really time to scrap it, but this old lady was still holding on and even helped to prepare a not very tasty but edible dinner. In the very corner stood the same old refrigerator, which was always the honorary gentleman of the gas “lady”, all that went into his duties - it was to keep, at least for a short time, the freshness of food. And he even managed this task, which was an unspeakable joy. And what without a sumptuous dining table that could seat seventy people, but not in this case. Creaky, on wobbly legs, with cracks - only such a table could stand now in this kitchen, surrounded by others like it. Old and unneeded, but not in this case. Next to the table, chairs were kindly pushed in the same condition, one of them was deprived of such an honor and stood alone against the wall, as if he was burning his brothers with a nonexistent look, clearly not wanting to be left out. All that remained in this small apartment was a shrunken closet, with a ridiculous, almost fallen off hanger, a shoe rack, half-empty and as insignificantly small as a mouse hole, and a bathroom. The worst room in the house, dead, in places falling off, once white tiles clung to the floor and walls. In the corners and near the baseboards black mold lived quietly, that from moisture grew to a huge size, to live here only in joy. The small round window under the ceiling let in some light, but it was not enough to illuminate the whole space, so there was a small sconce above the door, the only thing in this house in adequate condition. Even the lighting in the apartment itself was the responsibility of one miserable bulb that just hung from wires. On the moldy walls were a couple of shelves, not in particularly good shape, the paint peeling off the boards, but in some places it was still struggling to hold on to a piece of wood. On them stood the same stripped jars, long since darkened, with labels obliterated, and only at the very bottom was a drop of the remedy that was supposed to be used for bathing, but even that poor drop was saved by the inhabitants of the area as best they could. What was in the middle of the room could hardly be called a bathtub; it looked more like a rusty trough than a cast-iron product. The whole thing was covered with indelible “something”, this slippery substance stuck on the walls in orange streaks, there was no definition, the enamel had long ago cracked and there were visible cracks where the dirt was clogged. To relax in such a place will not be easy, and certainly no one will not allow you to lie in warm water with a lot of foam, at least the feeling that you are lying in a rusty, in some places slimy bathtub, will not allow you to imagine yourself in a romantic movie. The earthenware invention is worth keeping silent about - it was the last thing in the house that anyone wanted to say anything about.       It wasn't a pleasant place, but the people weren't. Even though the family consisted of only three people, it was still hard to keep afloat. Now there were only two people in the apartment, and the third member of the family, as usual, was hanging around somewhere, not thinking about what was waiting for him. On the hard couch sat a girl, tiny and skinny, like the well-known Thumbelina. Her brown hair fell to her shoulders, strands of varying lengths poking out of a ponytail pulled back with a frayed rubber band. Her sharp facial features, protruding collarbones, and pale skin clearly suggested that she was not just lacking in vitamins, she was literally lacking in food. The only thing about her that truly looked alive were her eyes. The same color as the sofa she was sitting on, except that unlike the old fabric, they wouldn't lose their color. Next to her, just a few centimeters away from her, sat a boy who looked slightly unusual. He had cat ears and a tail, which in our view is a mutation and belongs in the circus of freaks, but no one would dare to say such a thing to his face, because now he has a faithful protector in the person of a fragile girl. Not so long ago, after two years, they began to live together.       It was raining on one of the not so beautiful evenings, everyone was hurrying home and didn't even pay any attention to the man hiding in the corner between the houses. Only a kind young lady bothered to pass by at the sound of crying and sobbing, somewhere between the unnecessary boxes she noticed this amazing creature. The poor boy was sitting there shivering, whether from fear or cold, he looked no more than nine years old, just a baby. His whole face was bruised and scratched, the bruises on his wrists were smaller, but his legs and knees had been peeled off, and blood oozed from the wounds, which were immediately washed away by raindrops. There were no clothes on him, just some dirty and wet rags that looked remotely like what people normally wore; if he'd had a choice, he would have refused to wear them, but now it was just a forced measure to cover his nakedness. But the worst thing that struck the girl was the canvas sack tied around her head. It squeezed the entire face of the unusual creature, causing unbearable pain. The girl slowly approached him, and the boy shrank back fearfully, crawling away. He was about to fall under the ground when she reached out her small hand to his head, expecting to be tortured again now. But all she did was untie the tight knot and remove the “hell whip” from his head. Immediately the two black ears on his head straightened up, which clearly made the boy feel better. But the tightened skin, blue and torn, made itself known with a searing pain that traveled all over his body. “Will you come with me?” the girl said quietly, almost in a whisper. The boy only nodded and, grasping the previously extended hand, rose slowly. At the moment he was clean and in better clothes than before, he was sitting and playing with a teddy bear, while his good friend and almost sister was frowning at the suffering window. “Well, where is he...” muttered the girl to herself something under her breath. “Lyra, don't worry. I think your brother will show up soon,” noticing his friend's slight nervousness, the boy commented. At the boy's ringing voice, Lyra flinched slightly. A wave of goosebumps ran through her body, the girl clearly hadn't expected the dense fiber of silence to be broken through by a sharp exclamation. “I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd hear me.” Neither of them uttered another word. But instead of voices, the rain decided to break their peace, which slowly descended as a shroud on the transparent windows, leaving behind wet drips. The drops slowly drummed on the eaves, growing more and more with each blow. People on the streets either hurried home, because no one wanted to wet silky dresses and ironed suits, or took out umbrellas, and already protected from the rain quietly went on with their business. It was getting cooler in the small apartment, so the landlady hurried to heat the stove to keep warm and not to get sick. There was no money for medicines, so this was not a problem. In a few minutes the whole room warmed up, it became warm not only physically, but even on the soul warmed from the soft light of the furnace, now would not hurt a cozy plaid, a good book and a cup of delicious cocoa with marshmallows, but in this family could afford only a book, and that, written once a long time ago, which sometimes helped the table to keep the balance. Lyra was still waiting for her naughty brother who was always making her nervous. Sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for. The heavy old door opened with a heartbreaking creak and slammed so loudly you'd think a war had broken out. A tall boy came in, already soaked to the skin. Raindrops dripped from his dark brown hair, the same color as Lyra's, as if he'd taken a shower. His eyes were a bright blue color despite the fact that he was of the same blood as the girl, more so his mother. Those beautiful eyes were framed by rectangular glasses with black frames. The boy slowly pulled off his red jacket, tossing it somewhere near the stove to dry, and walked to the back of the room. “Brother, I'm so glad you're back!” babbled Lyra upon seeing her favorite brother. “Where have you been? I was so nervous and worried!” “What do you care?” despite his little sister's welcome, snapped the boy. “Ray, be honest, have you been sitting in the casino again?” the brunette's voice gained steel. “I don't have to answer to you!” the girl frowned even more fiercely than before, after the not particularly courteous brother raised his voice. “You do realize we're at rock bottom right now! And you'd better get a job instead of losing all your money in pathetic card games!” tears came to her eyes, and her little white hands clenched so tightly that scarlet blood seemed about to flow from the swollen veins. “Shut up! You're not old enough to teach me how to live. I know what to do without you.” The girl said nothing, and Rei, who had spoken so kindly to her little sister, disappeared momentarily behind the door leading to the bathroom. The brunette visibly snickered, sinking down into a nearby chair. She wanted to hit the table with all her might, but seeing its collapse, the young lady restrained herself from rage. Various thoughts were swirling in her head, but the most important one was why was he doing this to her? Why so cold? After all, all their lives they lived soul to soul, all the time he spent with her. And now he can't stand her. This kind of thinking made me feel sick, and there was an unpleasant lump in my throat, and my heart felt as if a typhoon had blown everything in its path. The bathroom door opened, and a nearly dry guy came out of there, with some gruff exclamations: “Do we have anything to eat? What have you been doing all day today, I hope you cooked something?” “All I had enough for with the money you left was a rotten cauliflower. So make do with the soup I made just from it,” the girl was about to pull out a heavy pot and pour a couple ladles into a plate, only Ray's displeasure stopped her immediately. “What the hell is this stuff? I'm not going to eat that,” Ray grumbled at the sight of the yellow-green substance. “Well then, go hungry. You know I couldn't cook you a pork knuckle on the measly pounds you left me,” the brunette replied, shoving the pot back into the humming refrigerator. Ray stood up from the table, while making a loud cluck at his sister's remark. Lyra continued to watch her brother's movements, who at the moment grabbed his red item and was about to leave. She was clearly not happy with this arrangement, she expected some sort of reaction, but not a simple running away from a serious conversation. It was necessary to intervene. “Where are you going? We haven't really talked,” the brown-haired man ignored his sister, pretending as if she didn't exist at all. He left this house as quickly and unexpectedly as he had come. The brunette immediately sighed frustratedly. It was hard for her to constantly talk to her favorite person like this, but she couldn't help it. All conversations usually ended in arguments and tears. Now almost nothing had changed. The boy noticed his friend's sad look and decided to dispel her longing, but before he could say a word, the girl turned to him with a warm but noticeably strained smile. “It's all right, Lulu, don't be alarmed.” “But you're so sad, how can I leave you?” the boy jumped up from the couch and hugged the girl. “It's okay, I didn't need you to be sad either,” the boy was a little shorter than Lyra, she hugged him back, gently stroking his thick black hair. “You know he'll be back, don't you? He may seem bad, but he loves you, and he won't let you get hurt,” Lulu perked up after his own words. The girl thought for a second, looking away for a moment. “Yeah, you're right, I love him a lot too, just like you.” The boy hugged the brunette even more tightly, and when he pulled away from her, he plopped down on the couch again, and his friend sat down quietly beside him. They talked for a long time, sometimes fooled around and so until late in the evening, until the boy fell asleep from fatigue. The girl carefully put him to bed, but did not hurry to indulge in the realm of dreams. She kept waiting for her prodigal brother, burning the door with her gaze, sometimes moving to the window.

A few hours later.

Ray deigned to return home only in the middle of the night, when the stars and the moon were about to leave the world, giving way to the sun. The house was quiet and peaceful, everyone was asleep, even the house itself seemed to be dozing and his snoring was seeping through the dense cover of air. His sister was asleep, too, except that she was not in the spacious bed, but on the hard couch, and not in the most comfortable position. “Shit,” the brown-haired man whispered under his breath. He slowly lifted the girl's fragile and surprisingly light body, carefully carrying her to the bed. Lulu owned the whole area now, so he had to move him to the side so as not to wake anyone. The lad himself settled down on the blue product. It took a long time for him to be admitted into the realm of Morpheus, but finally, by morning, the whole house was asleep.