Philologist Olenka was not a professional salesperson. But after the end of Philology had to somehow make ends meet, and she selflessly went to sell a tray dairy products. Money is the occupation does not bring much, but thrifty and unpretentious Olga managed to not only support of old parents, but also cut out some money to buy books favorite authors.
Once rosy darling girl from a nearby tray called her, and pointing with a nod to the grim character who dies in a dead dog, said:
- Look, most people down!
- Who is it? – Olga asked, feeling like the heart is compressed in the chest or from self-pity, or fear.
- Photographer Prostitutkin – said Darling. – His wife left him … Not a person has changed. So eat it, you see, néchego – you see: a dead dog pulls. Cook it, then, going … Yeah, this would have been even a photographer! And it’s so … neither one thing nor the lyubitelishko … … – And with these words cheerful Darling was counted the next delivery to the buyer.
At the impressionable Olenka this episode had a strong influence. A few nights she dreamed photographer Prostitutkin, pushed into a refrigerator carcasses of domestic animals.
A few days later, when Olenka returned home from work, she again ran into Prostitutkina. It was already dark. He sat down on one knee under a streetlight and something of interest examined in the roadway. Coming closer, Faye Reagan saw that a lantern on the snow lies a dead pigeon. “Surely, he will eat it!?” – She was horrified. Hand fumbling in his bag and felt a carton of milk, she timidly touched Prostitutkina shoulder:
- Do you want milk?
Prostitutkin raised his eyes and stood up to the knee. Pupils of his eyes wildly and randomly rotated in their sockets. On the chest from side to side swaying camera.
- Huh? What? What?? – He said hurriedly and recklessly, ran away.
“Most people are not in themselves!” – Compassionately thought Olenka and went home.
Soon, she again met the Prostitutkinym. He walked past her tray and cheerfully talked with a young interesting person, who was holding his arm. And then Olga realized that to his ears in love with Prostitutkina. And jealousy is firmly settled in her soul.
Several times she timidly tried to attract his attention, but, alas, has not succeeded. No, she was a beauty, but her features were definitely attractive. Shine as her brown eyes in the old college years provided her many fans. But Prostitutkinu was not up to it. Looks like it just was not in its taste.
Occasionally Oily faced Prostitutkinym on the street, and each time was surprised to note changes in his appearance and behavior. He talked animatedly with some beautiful companion, then grimly engaged in collecting dead rat and dog feces. “What a sublime and poetical nature, this Prostitutkin!” – Thought of Olga, and love even more raged in her soul.
But one day, holding a carton of milk and three glazed cheese curds unknown middle-aged man, Olenka heard:
- Excuse me generously! Do not think anything bad! But could not you join me tonight. – The stranger just smiled and guilty tone he added: – Here’s a ticket to the opera disappears.
Embarrassed Olga did not know how to react. Guided rather feminine intuition, rather than common sense, she agreed.
Two weeks have passed. Olenka is no longer remembered Prostitutkina. All her attention was given to Pispisovu, her new friend, who was a very interesting person. Hours he could talk about art and science, and love. Besides Pispisov was not greedy and petty, and it is even more elevated him in a charming Olenkinyh eyes.
But one drawback still have Pispisova was. The fact that he was very timid and old-fashioned not dare with the ladies. Olenka is eagerly awaiting the development of new relationships.
When Pispisov finally had the courage and asked Olenka to her home, she could not hide her joy and enthusiasm. But just in case she still asked the Pispisova:
- And you do not accidentally photographer?
- N-n-no. And where did you take? – Pispisov muttered, lifting his eyebrows.
- No, I’m so … – vaguely replied Olga.
On the appointed day and hour to dress up and gently tinted heroine of our story was at the door of the apartment Pispisova and pressed the call button. In her imagination pictured the image of dandified dressed gentleman, gallantly kissing her and hugging. Alas! Expectations were not fulfilled. The door opened, and Olga saw on the threshold Pispisova in a dirty shirt and sandals on bare feet.
- Oily! I’m glad! – He yelled, and, without giving time to recover her visitor, dragged her by the hand into one of the rooms.
Olga appeared before the eyes of the artist’s studio, filled up the stretcher, brushes, palette knife and other attributes of the painter. Yes, Pispisov was not a photographer. He was a painter, and Olga did not know, enjoy it or not. The owner also put her on a specially prepared stool and started to write her portrait oil. He applied to the newly primed canvas smear for smear and Olenka sat and thought: “What are the goats, all these guys!”
And then a miracle happened. Pispisov suddenly stopped, threw away the brush, and wiping her hands on a piece of old bed sheets, went to Olenka.
- Forgive me – he said and kissed her cheek.