Dmitry (DILF)

A strong gust of wind tears the leaves off the trees.

The phone is turned off, but the constant vibrations make me want to smash it to hell. I walk around the park hoping that the large open space will clear my head a bit. After all, the walls, as if narrowing, constantly press down — in the office, in the house, even in the restaurant — everywhere they press down, like in a claustrophobic movie.

One of my assistants is calling again because of some nonsense, my wife is writing something, and my secretary is crying after seeing the report.

I'm fucking losing my mind.

The brain is already completely refusing to give any orders, both to subordinates and to its own body. I just step on the crisp leaves with my black oxfords, trying to get some fresh air.

Everything is changing too fast.

Once I was happy with the insignificance and dependence of people, the constant race for my approval, the look, but now I just want everyone to get away from me at least for a while. Now the do not disturb mode will turn off all calls and messages, giving me at least one fucking evening of peace and fresh air.

I grab an espresso in a booth near the fountains, located in the center of the park, and light a cigarette. Damn, I'm smoking in the drizzling rain with a drink in my hand, like a teenager. I didn't think that having everything, I would be able to enjoy such a small thing.

Emotionally, I'm literally falling apart. I don't give a damn about anything. I have no feelings — I have absolutely no empathy for the whole world. If I were even a little religious, I would ask God to give me a little interest, at least a little meaning.

The coolness of the evening shows that the heat is over and it is not worth waiting for it in the coming months.

Smoking one cigarette after another, I watch everything that happens in the park, and absolutely nothing happens. The coffee vendor is smoking at the other end of his store. The fountains are not working. No one sits on the summer terraces. There are no people at all. Only a girl of eighteen or nineteen on a bench five or six meters away from me is sharpening a bun alone - and so slowly, admiring it, she covers her sleeves from the rain.

I chuckle to myself.

The sight is quite pleasant, you can get carried away. Just a scarlet flower, freezing in the harsh November weather.

I'm starting to move forward, just because I can't stand still. Obviously, my completely shattered psyche always forces me to do something - that's why I tap my fingers on the table and smoke two packs a day. The black T-shirt sticks to the white shirt, which also sticks to the body.

I went out to get some fresh air. I was alone. I enjoyed the silence.

I walk slowly with a disposable cup in my hands and see how the girl also decides to take shelter from the rain. She gets up from the bench and walks in the same direction as me.

Despite the downpour increasing by the second, it's pretty calm here—just me, the coffee vendor, and this girl who's obviously not dressed for the weather. The three of us are walking in this part of the park. After taking a few puffs, I smoke another cigarette and stop: right in front of me, a little girl stumbles and falls, leaning her hands on the asphalt. A half-eaten bun falls into a puddle. The sleeves and the dress itself are covered with dirt. She doesn't even move for a few seconds. I have no idea where so much sympathy and pity comes from, but without much hesitation, I immediately squat down next to her, hold out my hand and help her up. She accepts my help, but cautiously, trying not to look me in the eye. I could have sworn she was crying, but the tears were mixed with the rain, and it was hard to see them.

But I see it. And I hear almost soundless sobbing.

"Did you hurt yourself badly?"