..... He was awakened by a knocking noise from upstairs. As usual, at seven in the morning, his neighbor was hammering nails into
the wall.
"Why does he have to be so hard..." The image of his neighbor being hit in
the head with a hammer flashed through his mind. He fell back onto the pillow with a smile that combined relief with a hint of sinister revenge.
He looked around the room. Clothes were lying everywhere, cassette tapes on the shelves, swimming competition trophies
, empty beer bottles. He reached for a pack of Sobieskis, pulled
one out, lit one, and took a long drag. He turned his gaze to the window. Gray clouds and the same
apartment buildings. The first pedestrians were moving along the sidewalks. Some slowly and sadly, others with a distinct
rush. A typical, gloomy day in the apartment building.
"Shit," he summed it up in one word.
He glanced at his watch with a pleading look. But Mr. Tick-Tock was brutal. The words "It's time...it's time...it's time...GET UP!" seemed to follow each
moving hand
. He knew this perfectly well. If he was going to earn anything today, he had to get up from bed as quickly as possible.
The thought of hot, delicious coffee helped him. Unfortunately, he had to settle for the cheapest
, instant junk from Biedronka.
"The important thing is that it kicks," he thought.
He slowly assembled his wardrobe. A sweaty T-shirt, sneakers, and pants from Clinica.
The sight of them made him delve into the past. He remembered how he'd earned that outfit. Those two punks from
Lwowska Street, they were craving pot. At first, he was a little worried they were undercover agents. But after all,
you only live once, and besides, there wasn't much they could do to him for marjoram.
"Actually, it's better they got the bad stuff; they won't be poisoning themselves from a young age," he tried
to justify his deception.
As he finished his coffee, he looked at his mess again.
"I don't have a chance at anything else.
" "...you don't have a chance at anything else," Myslovitz howled on the radio. She raised her head and knew that nothing had
changed. The same concrete jungle.
"And I had such a beautiful dream." She closed her eyes, pressed her head into the pillow, and threw herself in pursuit of
the night's dream. Unfortunately, she didn't catch up. She had drifted away on a twelve-hour journey and would return...
Different, better, worse. She dragged herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. The light was on inside.
"Dad, get out!" Her voice held all the morning sadness. The sentence tumbled from her beautiful lips and
struck her guilty father with great force.
"I'm leaving now, little bud," replied the voice from behind the door. In a moment, she could indeed see
her sad face in the mirror. Soap, brush, toothpaste, mug, and warm water. But the most important part
Her morning makeup was hidden in a red bag. Lipstick, eye shadow, powder, perfume. After
a half-hour session with cosmetics, her face had reached a level that allowed for contact with people.
"Here are the sandwiches," her mother briskly moved from room to room. She already had a shoe on one foot and was holding some papers in her hand. "Remember, you have to take the dumplings to Mrs. Jadzia
tonight . They're in the fridge. " "Yes , I remember." "I'll be back late because we have an inspection today... Damn, this stress is going to kill me. They shouldn't be suing Philip Morris in court. They should be suing someone who organized this messed-up world." She pulled a Slim from the package and inhaled with relief. Her daughter sat down at the table, slowly grabbed one of the sandwiches, and raised it to her lips. "Will you give me a ride?" her mother asked her father. "Come on," he replied, quickly grabbing the doorknob. "Bye, honey," she said through the door to her daughter . "Bye." She waited for the slam and tossed the sandwich into the trash. "Ugh..." she added with disgust. She returned to her room and slowly packed up her books. She pulled a pill from a small yellow box, held it up, and said, "Pineapple—a gift from the Gods." With a smile, she swallowed the pill. Her legs carried her to the window, and she looked down. Surprisingly, all she could see were apartment blocks. She leaned her upper body out the window, but she had no intention of jumping. She knew it, her upstairs neighbor knew it, and the pigeon on the roof knew it too. It's just self-deception... "There's no point in deceiving yourself," he thought, "much less your own stomach. Let's go get some rolls. Just make sure it's Stasiakowa's and not that stupid fat guy." He slammed the stairwell door, turned off the cigarette , and checked the mailbox. Inside was a letter from his beautiful, wealthy, and somewhat megalomaniac mistress, Telekomunikacja Polska. He headed toward a brown kiosk marked "Grocery." Jojko was already lurking outside the store. "Hello, esteemed neighbor! How are you? How..." "I have nothing!" he waved the bum away. He stepped inside, his face instantly lighting up with a radiant smile. "Good morning! How's business?" The fat, mustachioed man frowned menacingly. "Depends on whether you have any money for yesterday's beers for me." "Well, actually..." "And for the day before yesterday too. " "But I explained it to you. The family came, my older brother and his girlfriend. It's not appropriate not to offer anything, is it? Dear Sir, I'll sort everything out on the first day, I promise. Just two sweet rolls per notebook, please. " "You won't get anything on the credit line, so get the hell out!"
"Of course you can take it on the line! You'll pay it back when you do." The fat man looked at the words "Hooray for boobies" on her T-shirt, saliva
dripping down his chin. "Thank you! You're saving my life. Mom told me to make these dumplings, and there's no butter in the house , so how am I supposed to fry them? I'll give them back tonight or tomorrow morning. Goodbye. " "Oh... Goodbye!" he replied sadly, because he knew that now only old, chatty women were waiting for him. Until the next young chick... She quickly ran upstairs, opened the door, and without taking off her shoes, hid the butter in the fridge. She pressed the seven button on the TV remote, and a moment later, Fashion TV appeared on the screen. She squeezed some toothpaste onto her toothbrush. She made a few circular motions, spat it out, and rinsed her mouth. From the shelf, she grabbed a small bottle of grapefruit extract. After a moment, the brush was touching the enamel again, this time slower, longer, and seemingly more carefully. A white glow flashed from her incisors. "Oh, things are about to get going," she muttered quietly to herself. She quickly turned the key to the left , but knew it would be useless to rush. From upstairs, she could hear her neighbor coming down, and the single words of a humming song reached her ears. After a moment, a familiar sight met her eyes . An aging, balding, thin man in flip-flops and a cigarette in his mouth. "Oh, beautiful neighbor! Off to school already? Has Mom already gone? " "Well... Yes, I'm going to school now. " "And Dad still works for that transport company? He used to disappear for weeks at a time, and the ladies were alone in their apartment building... " "Well, Dad doesn't work there anymore, he's looking for something new..." She wanted to end the conversation as quickly as possible and run off to school. "I thought I heard... " "Well, you know, I have to go, I'm already late." She smiled at him as if to say goodbye. "Well... bye." It was clear he wanted to say something else, but he gave up. For now. "Almost everyone has a neighbor who's a spy," she recalled the words of a well-known song. The weather was exceptional, beautiful sunshine, or maybe it was gloomy and the sky was covered in clouds. She wouldn't have seen much looking up anyway because everything was obscured by... apartment buildings. From a distance, on the twenty-four, as she did every morning, she noticed a short figure. Then her eyes caught sight of a red backpack from Diverse. For a few months, she'd been watching for it, visiting him at the store several times a week. She hid it under a pile of other, ugly and worthless things. And when she knew it was only a few zlotys left, that it was only a few days before he'd be moving into her house, Agata bought it. "Slut, whore" –
She hated it as much as she hated that backpack now. She remembered proudly parading
it on her back the day after her visit to the store. She showed a pleasant smile in front of her, but
she felt the cold of the knife on her back. She really liked Agata, but... not that much.
"Hey, girl!" a shout greeted her.
"Hey!" They greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek, typical for girls.
"Come on, or that pervert Wańczyk will say we're late again.
" "Fuck, he's late again," he cursed silently. The nervousness spread to the others waiting at
the bus stop. There was a young boy with a backpack, an older woman with a dog, a blond man with glasses in
a suit and a briefcase. "Uncle will be a little upset"—he really didn't like being late, but
he was almost always late. A five-car group pulled out from around the corner. He settled into the bus, immersed in
the world outside the window. The twenty-minute journey seemed to drag on forever. If anyone had watched
him get off, they might have sworn someone had pushed him. He didn't have time to interpret the leap,
as he immediately broke into a jog. A Żuk stood by the road, and next to it was a man in his thirties
, very well built, wearing a yellow safety helmet.
"Uncle, I'm sorry, but there was an accident, a woman's leg was blown off and...
" "One more time and that's it." He turned on his heel and got into the Żuk.
In the back, in the back, sat a few other workers. He had already met Mr. Stefan, the philosopher Damian, and
the handsome Roman. A newcomer was sitting by the shovels. "Young, probably my age," he thought.
"Hi, you're new here, right? I'm Wojtek, what do they call you?" he asked.
"These pigeons aren't that stupid, you know? What do they do all their lives?" They're pissing on this world of ours.
He didn't ask anything more. "
Can I ask you something? Remember how we talked about guys on Friday?" Agata broke
the brief silence.
"Well.
" "And how we talked about Robert, and that handsome guy from the 4th floor?
" "Well
." "What if we talked more generally?
" "What do you mean?
" "Well, how would you describe your ideal?
" "Ah... That's it! Well, you know, Ben Affleck looks like him, of course...
" "What are you talking about?? Brad Pitt! Nothing beats that handsome guy!
" "Hey, okay, but that's my dream. Well, he'd take me to the movies, go shopping with me,
wait faithfully, and not complain. He'd have to have a nice stroller, preferably red." I want him to forget about the whole
world and massage my legs, so we can go on vacation somewhere warm. I want him
to sing ballads to me by the window in the evenings so the whole neighborhood knows how awesome I am.
A guy. So I could move in with him, and what kind of apartment would he have! Leather everywhere, Sony appliances
, and Jonny Walkers.
"Heh, that's practically the same as mine. And what kind of apartment would it be, you know...
" "Well, it would have to be European size." Heh, heh..
"Heh, heh."
Professor Wańczyk stood before them.
"Why don't you think so? Could you remind me what I just said?
" "What did you just say?"
"Listen, Wojtek, I still pay you more than the others. I have debts, I have to pay them back. Maybe next
month we'll make up for it. Now let's load up that coke."
They grabbed shovels, and a black mound was growing on the Żuk. The work went remarkably quickly, even though
everyone was constantly looking around. Stealing coal was profitable, but very stressful. Every time
they threw the shovels into the back of the truck and drove away, he breathed a sigh of relief. He breathed a sigh of relief this time too.
The Żuk stopped at his neighborhood. He said goodbye to everyone and collected his daily wages. He looked
at his hands. "This could have been avoided." His thoughts now revolved around his father and his company. They were
so much alike. Ambitious, proud, talented, handsome. That's why they couldn't
stand each other for more than five minutes. He could have given in and conformed and now live a better life. But
then he wouldn't be himself.
He noticed her from afar. The sun was shining between the apartment buildings; she moved her hips beautifully, seeming
to float lightly along the sidewalk. He automatically smiled. He forgot about hunger, about cigarettes, about the lack of
money.
She glanced at him and quickly lowered her gaze to the ground. She took one step at
a time proudly. She adjusted her purse. Dominika emerged from the fifth staircase with her dog, and they exchanged smiles.
She looked at him again and then at the apartment building on the right. They were getting closer.
"That's actually quite a trick," he thought, stroking his chin. He was already five meters away, smelling
the perfume. He looked into her eyes.
She snorted, passed him, and quickened her pace. She felt for the intercom keys in her pocket.
He stopped and sat on a bench, seeking a moment of rest. "I'm in no
hurry," he realized.
She rushed into the stairwell, hunched over. "Did he see it? No, he didn't see it. How did he see it?" She ran up
the stairs, tears welling up in her eyes, she fell for the first time. "He can't find out, he can't." She
searched for the house keys in her pocket. She shoved both hands into her pockets, and only then noticed the unraveled
shoelace. She fell a second time. She felt for her cut chin. "This is penance for my
stupidity." She quickly opened the door, burst into the house, and ran into the living room. "He saw it!
He saw it, and he laughed at me!" She pulled aside the curtain and stood half a meter from the window.She looked down. He was sitting on
She sat on the bench with her arms folded across the backrest. She touched her cheeks. A slime was running down them, a combination of
salty tears and black mascara. She probably looked like a ghost then. "She probably knows
everything now and is laughing at me." She wiped her face and sniffed. "Oh, you fool." He looked into your eyes.
You can always lie with words, but the truth is always visible in the eyes."
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