Boy I messed up the numbers and called her... Bashny.Net

Boy I messed up the numbers and called her. She was arguing with the teller and barked into the phone. The tube was silent. She asked who she is calling — the room was unfamiliar. A thin voice asked grandma. She wanted to snarl again, that there is no grandmother here and there in carefully recruit squiggle, kid! But the voice was so touching that she hissed at myself and replied that it was her phone, she's not a grandmother, but aunt. And that boy just got the wrong room. But the boy in the phone and clearly said her phone number.

They began to understand. Dad he dictated. It was a new grandma's phone. Old grandmother stole. In the store. Or not in the store. Neither my grandmother or the boy do not know exactly where. Dad bought my grandmother another phone and the room dictated. It is properly recorded. Or maybe doubted if the baby's aunt and this phone is the grandmother stole?





She laughed. No, nothing she didn't. The failure occurred when it was recorded. It happens. Just messed up the numbers.

She's already out of the Bank, not forgetting about the cashier. Thought how to call grandma? And the Pope can call? The boy could call my dad and called. But my dad had disconnected the phone. Dad could be at the meeting. Or the Pope could discharge the battery. Well, call mommy and baby! He doesn't know how to call her mother. Mom had left. For a long time. He didn't remember her. He never to call her again. He always calls dad and grandma.

What's the urgency? Can't you wait? He has been waiting for a long time. He has even the blood stopped. But it still hurts. Blood?! What is the blood?! Cut hand?!

She quickly started her car, on the move, trying to figure out where the child lives. He remembered the house number and apartment, and the street could not remember. What you see in the window? And what trolley you carry, kid? Dad's driving the car? And grandma? Remember the number of the bus, please! She went to the bus trudged after him and suddenly realized that the boy lives in a neighboring house.

Took off on the 7th floor. The child opened the door immediately. Hold my hand, zamochennuyu a large towel. She squatted, began to unwind, gasped. Cut through the handle from the shoulder to the elbow. The blood clotted, but the towel scarlet. The boy's trembling lips and face white.

She grabbed him in his arms. Then pulled out a notebook, tore a sheet and wrote my phone number and that boy in the hospital, injuring his hand.

She took him into her hospital. I thought that as well, she was a doctor. Otherwise I would have been delirious and didn't know what to do, who to call.

Just a few stitches. All done quickly and well. The child was asleep in the house, she kept her hand on his forehead, and then began to stroke his hair, experiencing the unknown before emotions.

Vibrated phone. She stopped the male roar and all sensibly and quickly explained.

The boy's father in half an hour entered the room where the infant was sleeping, and she continued to stroke his white curls.

To say, in General, was about. They did not say. Sat in silence. She in a few sentences in a telephone conversation managed to cram everything that happened in the last two hours. Repeat didn't make sense.

Then the baby woke up. I saw my dad and lit up eyes. She smiled cautiously. She was preparing to leave. The boy took her hand. She sat down on the edge of the bed. Left.

It was uncomfortable among their catchphrases and jokes. Big and little man. They spoke in her strange language. Words formed into sentences, but the language is all the same to her was unknown.

Then she let go of his stress. Relaxed muscles. Leaned back in the bed. I caught myself thinking that admires them. Their relationship was the harmony inherent in just loving people. Regardless of age and degree of kinship.

The boy was discharged the next day. Grandma spent the night with the baby. Rushed to the hospital. In tears, confused. For a long time he fondled the child. Patting on the head, asked for forgiveness for what was left of one. The boy dug it, embraced by both handles. It's almost embarrassing to look at this absolute happiness.

The man called. She waited for the call. And he knew that he would call. Adults and polite people always call. To thank. Or to Express sympathy. Or somewhere to invite. Or just to talk.

He thanked. They talked. He wasn't invited.

Yes, and wasn't supposed to, of course. But for some reason she waited. Even figured out how to portray the employment. She's a doctor, she's sick, the house, overwhelmed with work. But of course she will find some time to drink coffee. Do you like coffee? She likes very! And what grade? And what is roasting? And turecki or from the coffee machine? And cheese to coffee like? And with or without milk? And sugar? She likes to drink coffee with cane sugar. And that bitter just a bit.

A quiz about the coffee instantly flashed in my head. After she heard the beeps of a rebound in the mobile phone.

Shook his head. Literally banishing away all thoughts about the man. She loved it. She even these days try on their lives. I wanted to fit in. Match. To talk in their bird language. Bake pancakes. To feed the boy and his dad. She could've.





Lived near. Faced, of course. He was not alone. With a beautiful woman. Was holding her hand. Laughed and talked. Of course, in your bird language. Of course, there were the atmosphere raspleskajte happiness.

She almost passed. He slid a glance. Then stopped. Then he called. Then again thanked and introduced to a beautiful woman. Was nothing to talk about. How can one and the same?

 



The philosophy of changing the worldCharacteristics that give the lonely woman

She smiled and nodded. My heart was easily and definitely. Only hands hid in his coat pockets to hide the nervous shake.

In someone else's life, not to fit in, when you want. In the lives of others do not fit. She had almost forgotten.published

Author: Zoya Kazanzhi

 



Source: pokolenie-x.com/?p=32172