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... I am going on the train Moscow-Petushki. Includes homeless from Kursk station. Bruise bruise. The muzzle is swollen. Looks about thirty.

Looking around, begins:

— Citizens of the Lord three days did not eat. Honestly. Stealing is fear, because no strength to escape. And there are very desirable. Serve, much as you can. On the face do not look, I drink. And what will probably also be spoiled! and went on the car.





People have good quickly distribute to the homeless, five hundred rubles.

At the end of the car a homeless person stopped, turned to the passengers face, bowed at his feet.

Thank you, citizens, gentlemen. May God bless You all!

And then suddenly sitting at the last window mean looking man, something like a breeder Lysenko, only with glasses, she starts screaming at him on the bum.

Scum, maggot, begging, bitch. Asking for the money. And I may have nothing to feed the family. And I may have fired the third day. But I'm here, not asking you, punk.

A homeless person suddenly gets out of all his pockets of all that he has, two thousand, perhaps, a different pieces of paper and some change, and handed the man.

Here, take this. You need.

What? — fonarey man.

— Take! You take it! And I still will. People are good! — puts the money to the man in his hands, turns away, opens the door and goes into the hallway.

— Hey, wait! — jumps the man with the money in hand runs for the homeless in the vestibule.

The whole car, not saying a word, fell silent. We all listened attentively to the dialogue in the vestibule. The man shouted that people are shit. The homeless man claimed that people are kind and beautiful. The man was trying to return the money to the homeless, but the back did not take the money. Everything was over the fact that the homeless went on, and the man was left alone. To return he was in no hurry. Lit a cigarette.

The train stopped at the next station. Went out and entered the passengers.

Man, smoked a cigarette, too, went back in the car and sat down on his seat by the window.

For him nobody was paying attention. The car has lived its usual life.

The train stopped occasionally. Someone came, someone went.

Drove five stops. That's already my station. I got up and went to the exit.

Passing the man, I threw him a quick glance. The man kept his head turned to the window, and cried...

© Michael Fatah, 2014

Source: www.pravoslavie.ru/jurnal/76954.htm