Apple pie.

A man felt lonely in the very center of a big city. He was old and felt he would die soon. He wanted to talk to someone before he died. One evening, when the loneliness seemed particularly unbearable to him, and even the rapidly changing television channels couldn't drown it out, he decided to go out. The brightly lit streets were full of people. They walked in pairs and alone, sometimes someone bumped into him, but no one paid him any attention. Who could care less, an old, lonely man? Suddenly, the old man spotted a woman walking in the opposite direction. The street wasn't very well lit, and he thought he knew her. She reminded him a bit of his wife. As he got closer, he was a bit disappointed. The woman was much younger and wore provocative makeup. She was strolling in high-heeled boots, even though it was spring.

"Hey, old man, you got a fire?" she called from afar.

He didn't understand her at first.

"Excuse me?" – He leaned towards her and took off his hat in greeting.

“Would you like some ice cream, Grandpa?”

– Oh, no, no. The doctor forbade it. Last spring I even had a sore throat. But since you’re so nice, we can go for apple pie. I really like apple pie. My Ewunia, when she was still alive, baked it every week and I never got tired of it.

– Apple pie. I haven’t heard of it. How do you make it?

– No way, you really haven’t. These women today. It’s very simple.

– Do you have money?

– Money? And money? I have it. Although I don’t have a lot of money. Bills, rent, phone, medicine. We can get some cookies from the bakery and go to my place. I live nearby. I’ll treat you to a good liqueur.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, looked around the empty street, and finally sighed.

“Fine. Just no numbers.” –

“I’m Manuela,” the woman said as they entered the apartment. The old man took her hand and, with a kiss, introduced himself – Szymon.

“So, Szymon, pour some water over the little one to warm you up. Where’s your bathroom?”

“I’ll show you. Make yourself at home.”

When Manuela locked herself in the bathroom, Szymon turned on some music – Strauss waltzes seemed perfect for such an evening. She returned after a while, fragrant and with her makeup touched up. Only now did Szymon notice she was older than he’d thought. On the street, he’d guessed she was no older than forty-two, maybe three; now he was sure she was over fifty.

They each drank a glass of liqueur. She quickly, dispassionately. He, slowly, savoring every drop.

“Yummy,” Szymon sighed.

Manuela yawned and began looking around the apartment.

“And you live here alone?”

“Alone. Three years will be like Ewunia’s death.

” “So what’s another one?”

“You didn’t eat the apple pie. At least try it.”

"Oh, sweets don't make me nauseous. But don't worry about me, eat.

" "In that case, I'll pour you one."

"Please."

After the third glass, Manuela unbuttoned her shirt and blew into her bangs.

"And time flies...

" "Yes?" Szymon tore himself away from his apple pie and resumed the conversation. "You're right. Time flies inexorably, and there's nothing we can do about it. No matter how smart a person is, they can't. Transience.

" "Time is money."

"That's a very materialistic approach. I can't agree with that. When I was still working at the post office..."

"Stop talking nonsense. I came here to work, not listen to these idiots. My hour is worth fifty zlotys. Whether anyone likes it or not. "

"I don't understand."

"Don't pretend. I know old perverts like that. He invites me for apple pie, motherfucker. One guy invited me for Bulgarian watermelons, and I couldn't sit down for a month." Don't think it did him any good. I still have some boy friends, just a word is enough. Grandpa, too, I'm warning you, no S&M, no handcuffs, you have to love each other like God's will.

"I, I..."

"Don't stutter. You think I don't know anything about people? I've been in this business for over thirty years. I know those little pig eyes. What's wrong with you, Szymon, why are you so red?"

"It's nothing, heart. It'll pass soon.

" "Just don't confuse me. Relax, you're getting too excited.

" "I... I just wanted to, I...

" "I know. I'm not saying anything. You don't know anything about jokes? How should I know, you're such a jerk. You're not a dog. You don't trust peasants like dogs. One of these sly guys, he was a gold dealer on Ratuszowa Street, I knew him by sight, and he told me to piss on him. Look, Szymon, what a pig, huh?" "

I wanted to talk."

"Once, an Arab from Kuwait wanted to talk to my friend. The sheikh, you know. Not a word in Polish, he just wanted to talk. And he wanted to kidnap her, what with his harem, so she could give him free money for the rest of her life. Luckily, she came to her senses. I advised her against it, saying, 'Spit on his gold, his wealth, because it's all a sham.' The girl listened to me; she owes me her life. "

I wanted to talk because, ma'am, I mean, you remind me a bit of my Ewunia. I miss her so much.

" "Hey, what's wrong with you, don't cry. Szymon."

"Sorry, sometimes I get emotional. Won't you try the apple pie?

" "Then give me a piece."

After Manuela ate, she felt sleepy. She lay down for a moment to rest. When she woke up, she saw a black leather mask in front of her, with holes cut out for the eyes and mouth. She felt her arms and legs carefully tied to the bed, and her mouth was filled with a gag. As Szymon stood over her with a large whip, she closed her eyes. Suddenly, she felt a warm stream of water fall directly onto her face, and at the same time, she heard the old man's voice.

-Oh, you stupid cunts, you always fall for apple pie