– Hi, Sasha.

– Oh! Good afternoon, Alexander Pavlovich. – She shut the notebook. – I would like to share something special with you.

– And what is it?

– Something special, that's what I'm saying. At home, mom would laugh. She doesn't like it when I read them or compose new ones.

– Poems, right?

– No, arias! – A thousand tiny bells blessed my ears.

– Could you read me one of them?

Sasha opened her thick notebook and began reading:

Us both, we will die on the sunrise,

Me, you, on this sad, sinful earth.

The dusk, it will shine ever brighter,

The days didn't give us this girth.

She went silent.

– And what comes next, Sasha?

– I haven't composed it yet. – She turned the page quickly. – I also have an idea for a waltz.

We will be born, we won't be the same, no,

We wlll be close to the ones who will care for,

If you're not certain – look to the skies up above.

There you will see what Lord sees when he's sleeping.

Birds, they come back to be gone from their keeping.

But nothing could fill the hole in me where once was love.

– And what's the melody? Sasha, why won't you sing?

– I'll try to make up one now.

Sasha began singing the lyrics in a 3/4 time signature, in the waltz rhythm. Her magic took me where there isn't any pain or tears.

I almost fell off the bench.

– How was that? – Her face frowned. – Alexander Pavlovich, why are you silent? I did think it would be pathetic.

– No, don't say that. – I got out of coma. – It's beautiful…

– Don't lie to me if it isn't so. – She got an over-the-top sad expression. – Ha-ha! Bought that? Thank you very much, – she closed the notebook. – And you, have you ever written poems?

– I only wrote one stupid poem when I was little. I don't even know what it means.

– Can you tell me it?

– Okay, – I showed my teeth.

Time has passed, mur bears still sleep,

Day has long been done.

In the morn, they'll see a film,

But they sleep for now.

It seemed Sasha was ready to pop from laughter. So was I.

– And now, let's get serious. Try to compose a good poem, at least two lines.

– Sasha, I can't…

– Pretend that you can.

– This curse of mine, you'll be beside me, – I got still, – my fate, it wears a ball and chain…

– Yeah, with Iosif Seraphimovich it won't be pleasant at all.

High heels walked behind us and stopped.

– Oh, I forgot! Czardas. Alexander Pavlovich, dad's going to kill me. I have to go.

– See you, Sasha.

Sasha ran as fact as she could, almost losing the notebook. The stranger took her place.

– What a wonderful beginning! You're talented.

She looked like a marigold bud that didn't have time to see the sun and died under the snow. Her hazelnut hair wasn't long, and her shape wasn't too attractive, but she didn't lose any charisma from that.

– H-hello.

– Isn't your name Alexander Pavlovich? – The woman smiled. – I'm Marina Vasilievna. You shouldn't be called by your name and your patronymic at your age.

– You seem familiar. I saw you on our town's TV channel.

– That's because my last name is Zlatokrylova.

– That's right! – I jumped. – You sing!

– I do, my dear. And I respect any youth that begins its way. Tell me, are you a musician? – You have a very good size of your poem.

– Well…

I didn't hide anything and told her my story in all its honesty.

– I see. My condolences. It's always hard to lose one's loved ones. But you're doing good – you didn't leave your brother's instrument to get covered with dust and now you're using it well.

– My mom wanted to exchange it to pinot grigio.

– What tastes. Your mom doesn't know what's being brewed at Abrau Durso.

Now we smiled together. I exhaled through my nose loudly.