The clients were satisfied and I played my part, acting the joy of the time spent with them. When I was leaving, I thanked them for the tip and returned to the car to the driver.

– Are we going anywhere else? – I took an interest having lit a cigarette. The familiar taste of tobacco smoke filled my lungs.

– Yes, there is an order in Herzelia.

– Great.

Blowing smoke through the half-open window, I immediately caught the association caused by just one mention of this city. Money.

Dani typed the address on the navigator screen and started off, driving the car towards Herzelia.

Well, six years spent in the Holy Land, destroyed my teenage dreams completely. They scattered like annoying frogs together with grasshoppers in my imagination, which nagged me with their songs during Siberian summer nights, torn to pieces with the birdshot of a double-barreled shotgun. Their pitiful remains drowned in the river and never surfaced. Shot after shot, one by one, and after six years there was no one left. Silence… You get used to this silent period and already forget about the fact that they even once existed.

Three years ago I met a good and really honest guy (and the honesty of people was tested with the abilities of my “invisible friend”) called Alexey, aka Alex. Accidental acquaintance in a shopping center cafe. At first, he seemed to be suitable for the role of a person who you can live quite a wonderful life with. A handsome, attractive, caring, understanding and self-confident intelligent programmer. But a few months was enough to realize my mistakes. Not in the It’s not that he was not at all so caring and good. There was something different. It began to seem to me that I did not live my own life and that what was happening around did not correspond to the reality in which I should be. Although my “invisible friend” claimed that my choice was right, for the first time doubts about the correctness of his words visited me.

Alex and I had lived together for almost a year. But it often seemed to me that there should have been another guy in his place. The one that seemed to be close by was so close, I could just extend my arm, but at the same time he was so far away. So far that it does not make sense to measure the distance in kilometers. I did not see him, but this circumstance did not mean that he actually did not exist.

Alex happened to notice my conversations “with myself” (in the bathroom or in the kitchen, for example, when I forgot about his presence in the apartment), I think it is clear that in fact the conversations were held not with myself, but with my “invisible friend”. Or the way I look thoughtfully for a long time through the objects around me, and in most cases I prefer time spent alone. In fact, of course, not alone.

Alex responded to my words about the splitting up, in my understanding, not in the way that a sane person would do. He took me to a psychotherapist. The doctor explained that the “invisible friend” is a product of my own brain, none other than a character created by my sick imagination. Like, I had been lonely, so I made it up.

I was sitting opposite to the doctor who was in his fifties and it did not came up in mind in any way why I had to tell him everything. My “invisible friend” insisted on doing that, but did not explain the reason for it.

“Just do as I say. It is necessary "– It was his only argument.

I was telling the doctor about the events related to my friend. My friend was telling me about the doctor. The doctor was listening to me and making comments asking about my friend. My friend laughed at the doctor, the doctor mentally laughed at me, having already decided on the diagnosis at the back of his mind. I laughed at the doctor and at how quickly came to a medical conclusion, which, of course, was wrong.