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I saw her in the dim light of the bar of the "Club of the Exchange" almost immediately entered into.
Long red, slightly curly hair, a beautiful face, and bright green eyes.
She sat at the bar and listened absently saxophonist that played a forgotten melody.
I sat at the counter:
-Hey, Jim! - I waved.
The bartender came over to me and shook my hand.
 - Hello, Alex. You are early today. - Jim smiled.
 - I decided to finish early. I'm tired, Jimmy. - Today is really aching heart, sensing whether the trouble, whether a change of weather.
I smiled ruefully - old.
 - Alex! - Loud, during a break, he waved his hand in greeting unchanged labuh this institution.
 - Tim! - I raised my hand up. - How you doing, man?
 - While the game. - He smiled sadly and licked his lips and began to play again.

Saxophone touched the depths of my insides. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. In memory surfaced person people I left many years ago, after moving to Chicago.
Heart ached with renewed vigor, I suddenly remembered, in minute detail, the places of his childhood - the broad Volga steppe, the smell of sagebrush.
From memories became sad. From the memoirs of no avail, and I thought I was a practical man.
I knocked over a gulp of whiskey and smoke, asked the bartender:
 - Jimmy, and this girl is good after all?
 - Oh, yes, Alex! - Old Negro shook his gray head and smiled. - Very pretty lady. Very!
I took a bottle of vermouth and sat down next to her.
 - Hello.
She tore her eyes from the rapt saxophonist and looked me in the eye. My heart was struck by two green lake in her eyes.
I gasped at the magnificence. From its perfection.
 - Hi. - She gave me his palm. - Shofranka.
 - ABOUT! - Involuntarily I blurted out. - Are you Romanian?
 - And how do you know? - She smiled.
 - I am a historian. - I poured into glasses of vermouth and it yourself. - Here's to Free!
She barely sipped vermouth and smiled and asked:
 - Do you even know my name translation. Do you really studied the history of my homeland?
 - Not really, Frank. I study the history of the Old World the pre-Christian era. In particular myths.
 - That is a fairy tale? - She laughed merrily.
 - Yes, but in every fairy tale has some truth.
 - I am not sure. - She sipped vermouth, and again turned to the saxophonist. - How is he a great game.
 - He was a friend of Charles Reyem, his name is Tim Rotkins. If you want I can introduce you.
She sighed, thinking a little, said:
 - I travel to Chicago. It makes no sense, I'm not coming back here.
I suddenly felt uneasy.
I thoroughly in love, it seems.
 - It's a pity. - I turned back to the counter and lit a cigarette.
 - It is a pity that you can not introduce me to him? - She looked at me slyly.
 - No, - I answered firmly. - I'm sorry that you leave and do not return.
 - Such is the fate. - She shrugged her shoulders and asked. - Alex, let's run away from here?
I just looked at her and realized that he was missing. Absolutely. On his head was gone.
I took her by the hand and we went out into the gathering dusk.
 - And, the truth, Frank, that in Romania all the red girl vampires? - I asked.
She laughed.
 - Tales, my dear. It's a fairy tale.

«Chicago Tribune»
The staff of our newspaper mourning the untimely deceased Neglovski Alex is the best war correspondent of our newspaper. Alex was our good friend and historian, bloodless body, which was found on the banks of r.Chikago the country. The head of the police department has already commented on this event & quot; ... the murder. And we will track down the one who did it .... & quot ;.

© BeSpaleva







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