the color of a puddle... PROLOGUE

 

It wasn't some fancy wooden cottage on the edge of civilization... she didn't want one! He gave in. He always gave in. Maybe he regretted it... No, he'd learned not to regret anything. Near the city center, on the third floor, in a Scandinavian-style apartment—it was the only compromise she could afford. Sometimes the children weren't there... she kept saying that her position at the law firm was the most important thing right now... that they still had time!

The awkward silence and the late autumn light filtering through the carelessly opened wooden blinds, caressing the pine floor and the large, empty table, made... the room feel magical! Perhaps these old tenement houses had that special charm... He'd stared out that window long enough to forget what time was, where it began, where it ended... he marveled at how much beauty and color could be found in the sight of a gray, deserted park... after all, loneliness also has its color,... but was it THE color? The color of gray? Even if so, then by a strange coincidence, some force unknown to him, one he wouldn't have been able to believe in anyway..., had caused this incredible grayness to be ambiguous.

"Thousands of shades," he thought, "In this world, there's only gray. Every color is merely tinged with gray... so by mixing all the grays, we get white, which is also partly gray. I am gray... and she..." "

You end where I begin... I begin where you end." She was writing (trying to write) something with her finger on the light half-wall near the fireplace, which had long ago forgotten what warmth felt like in this apartment...

"...that means we complement each other..."

He didn't know why he said it, maybe it was a dream... a dream?

"NO!!! Damn it, you're not making this easy for me!!!" I don't know how you feel about this...

-don't finish... -he whispered pleadingly, then turned slightly and, looking into her eyes, finished -...don't say anything you might regret later...that I will regret...

He knew it wasn't true...maybe some part of the meanness that was so hard to find in him had made its presence known on purpose, despite all his views, despite what he had thought not long ago...it wasn't easy for him to hear this, and perhaps that was why he wanted it not to be easy to tell her...

Suddenly, though not out of surprise, everything lost its meaning…everything he had dreamed of with such passion…with such heart…Hope vanished again. He knew it would happen soon, but he couldn't justify it happening today…why today? He could never understand why certain things happen at these times and not others. After all, she could have stood by that fireplace yesterday, when certain thoughts were gripped by hopelessness, where the grayness became so dense that he could have leaped into its mysterious abyss without hesitation, hung himself on the windowsill of its border. He'd felt this quiet fear for a long time, every tinge of destructive thoughts intensified it, he felt his every sigh behind him, like an echo of fading beauty, an echo of memories, an echo of something... but today, that something had changed, despite the senselessness still present around him, he saw purpose in that park... loneliness has its own color, and perhaps it's no coincidence that it's his favorite color... He promised himself never again, but it didn't hurt... it stopped hurting a few months ago, now he even breathed a sigh of relief that they didn't have children, and maybe things would have been different then. He hadn't felt regret in a long time, or maybe this lack of hope that love exists, that it wasn't the curse of the naive... he'd long ago replaced his envy of seeing lovers with genuine compassion. The hardest part was probably coming to terms with the fact that happiness was eluding him, doing so in a particularly brazen way—giving himself a taste!

She finished… She did it almost as she knows how to do it in a courtroom: complete composure, self-confidence, without unnecessary embellishments, extraneous plotlines, a practical minimum of emotion, perhaps the only one she could muster.

CHAPTER ONE

Getting into the taxi with a small travel bag, she looked at him with exceptional warmth. He had the impression she even smiled slightly. "That's good," he thought involuntarily, "it's as if nothing had happened, as if we hadn't even existed today, as if she'd gone to her mother's for the weekend..." He wanted to boast about how good-natured he was... that he'd let her go in peace, that he had no one to lie to, that he couldn't... he had no influence on anything... there was nothing to fight for - not anymore! He returned to the apartment with a strange peace of mind. He lit the fireplace. On the dusty shelf, he saw a familiar number... mmm... Before sitting in the armchair and sinking his feet into the teddy bear fur that had been used instead of a carpet, he first poured himself a glass of cognac. He didn't like it, but it made him indifferent every time he looked at the picture of them together.

"There shouldn't be photographs... or memories... you shouldn't remember moments when the heart... hmm... like this." He spoke to the reflection in the bottom of the vessel. He could have cried, screamed, smashed the objects carefully arranged on the table. shelves...he didn't have the strength for it. He didn't know what hurt more now: the loneliness, the fact that she was gone, or the fact that there was no one now, no one he could talk to about this..." Or maybe he still loved her a little?

And silence?… What color is silence?… Hmm…”

CHAPTER ONE AFTER THEN

(…)he felt the breath of love, or death… - He no longer believed in any differences – she was gray… like that park a good dozen years ago, like everything, like him… like her. He remembered it even though he wanted to forget the day another woman left him. And he had promised a thousand times, on his death, that he would not love… that it would be the last time… he had promised then too. If he had to imagine how little depended on him… everything as if planned, to the very end… After all, he wasn't afraid of death, but how could he leave her now, alone, defenseless, innocent… but now she was holding his hand. He didn't know what would happen with so much love… it became clear that he had never loved anyone as much as he loved her, as he did now…

He wasn't walking through a long, bright tunnel, he didn't see angels,… but that warmth… as if he had drunk very hot chocolate. He couldn't hear anymore No smoker, no children, no grandchildren—some humming noise… then he heard nothing… maybe himself…

THE LAST CHAPTER

It didn't hurt (…)

EPILOGUE

It wasn't some fancy wooden cottage, somewhere on the edge of civilization… she didn't want one! He gave in. He always gave in, after all, he'd learned not to regret anything. Near the center, third floor, Scandinavian-style apartment—it was the only compromise she could afford. Like something from a dream, only sometimes the children were missing… she kept saying that her position at the law firm was the most important thing for now… that they still had so much time… The awkward silence and late autumn light filtering through the carelessly opened wooden blinds, caressing the pine floor and the large, empty table, made the room feel… magical? Maybe these old tenement houses have that special charm… He'd been looking out that window long enough to forget what time was, where it began, where it ended… he wondered how much beauty and color could be found in the view. A gray, deserted park... after all, silence also has its color,... but is it THAT color? The color of gray? Even if so, by a strange coincidence, some force unknown to him, one he wouldn't be able to believe in anyway..., caused this incredible grayness, drowning shadows in puddles, to be ambiguous.

"Thousands of shades," he thought, "In this world, there is only gray. Every color is merely stained with gray... so by mixing all the grays, we get white, which is also partly gray. I am gray... and she..." "

You end where I begin... I begin where you end." She was writing (trying to write) something with her finger on the light half-wall near the burning fireplace; warmth filled the apartment to the brim...

"...that means we complement each other..."

He didn't know why he said it. She knew it perfectly well, or maybe it was a dream... a dream? It was somehow told to him…

"Can you imagine how much I love you?" she asked shyly, like a little girl. "I don't know how I'd feel if we suddenly broke up..."

"Don't finish..." he whispered pleadingly, then turned slightly and, looking into her eyes, finished. "...don't say that...never..."

With a straight face, he stepped closer... they could have started to levitate in a kiss like that, then they froze, looking at each other. He'd never loved anyone as much as he loved her, just like now... "

I'll be right back, I have a surprise for you," she snapped him out of his reverie. "Wait..."

He stood so lightly in front of the fireplace, loving to sink his bare feet into the soft teddy bear fur that was placed on the floor instead of a carpet. On the dusty shelf, he saw a familiar number...mmm...today's date?... She could just as easily have stood by that fireplace yesterday...mmm..." He felt the distinct aroma of hot chocolate behind him, and then her gentle touch. For the first time in his life, such a quiet fear gripped him, every thought intensified it, like an echo of fading beauty, an echo of memories, an echo of something... today that SOMETHING appeared, he saw a certain loneliness in that park... even it had its own specific color, and perhaps it was no coincidence that it was his favorite color...