Belle Bashny.Net

Mom



On Friday, the Belle is coming to Henderson Avenue
opens the door with his key,
presses to your ear the iPhone shoulder,
and nearly drops the packets and parcels, where the entire menu
from a favorite restaurant Rica,
looking forward to his surprise: "You look...
I for APR itself on you, Zhenya."
Belle, barely dropping the cloak, looking for the invisible house dust,
starts rushing down the kitchen and set the table,
passing by the mirror, pokes a finger,
like, come on, don't be shy, girl, October,
whether that vain with diets tormented?
In the news the flight Cincinnati-Dallas.
But she sees no panic, no crowds,
because today is Friday and it arrives Rick,
and she missed, and ahead of two days...
Cincinnati Dallas: a death trap.
"Interrupt this broadcast sailing.
"Flight 138 crashed in the hills above the airport.
"Live broadcast from the crash site... grace..."
And before Belle will realize that it is in flight,
deep chest with a grenade explodes Creek
annealing ligaments, break out, arise, get entangled in the antenna,
will break, and from there, to the blood tearing off the edge...
In the house opposite the old palms pressed against his temples,
two seconds Alzheimer's order relaxed its grip,
she whispered, "That's just screaming I
over the telegram about the fact that Billy was killed in the Ardennes..."