English

One English teacher translated these stories from Serbian to English. To have her for a friend is priceless.

Milan

The Station 

“…Dear night hawks, your old friends are sending you greetings from the talking box.  Like every night, the sounds of fine melodies await for you. If you’re listening to us with someone you love, this is probably in vain, for you’ll only want to hear his or her heart beating. If you’re listening alone, think, maybe this is the night you’ve been dreaming of. But, it’s like a train on a station. It’s gonna be there for you, and then it’s gonna slowly go away. Don’t let yourself see the last wagon leaving faster and faster each time you close your eyes. And now, an old friend of ours with her divine raspy voice, and, of course, Summertime…”

 “…And, what more do you want? I’ve told you thousand times not to call me anymore, there’s nothing between us, don’t make a fool of yourself. Why can’t you get it? Find yourself someone else, someone nice like you. I’m bad, get it? B-A-D and I’ll always be like that. That’s what I want to be like and I’m never gonna be any different…” Nenad was again standing and listening to Vera’s monologue for God knows what time in a row. He was watching her turning around and leaving. Her white dress remained captured in his mind. Some music and laughter was heard out of the house she lived in. He went over to an old tavern to try to forget everything that has happened. Surrounded by those strange people, he was the one to envy them. They had their corners, their stories retold million times over and over again. Nothing helped him - neither the booze, which he didn’t even like, nor the smoky room that chocked him – not even their pleased faces whom he only wanted to tell to shut up, because he knew million far more interesting stories. He watched them being jolly, smiling, drunk and lost. The whole world was in between, but they were the only ones to spend that little free time he had. In his own way he actually paid respect for each one of them. “Good bye, professor”, he heard while he was going out. He waived. He wandered along the streets for a long time. He wanted to forget Vera, who has cured him from herself at least for a moment. The steps got the echo of a march. To do something colossal. Something nobody expected him to…He went to the old bridge.  He removed a piece of concrete from the first pillar, took the wrapped cloth and got a gun out of it. He triggered the gun and put it in his belt behind. Wind brought him a big smile on his face. He stood up. Even his steps became different. Now, he walked like a star of a movie, who set off on a final encounter. He wanted to throw out all those who were causing him pain both from his and their own lives, so that the movie could have a happy end. Upwards a quay, he reached the bridge. Dust and pieces of paper flying around him made the scenery complete…A vigilante…For all the defeated and humiliated. This night…He, himself…He climbed the old bridge. The lights were twinkling in the water. He knew where he could find him. He knew where their gathering place was. He took a very deep breath and set off. However, he heard neither the rollerblades’ wheels rolling along the path nor the voices of children rollerblading vigorously towards him. All he felt was a strong punch in his back and a child’s hand grasping for his T-shirt to prevent falling down on the concrete. With the corner of his eyes he saw the gun falling down on the end of the fence, jumping up and flying down into the river again. Then, the splash of water!”I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t see you!” The boy set his blue helmet and hit the road again in a hurry. The rest of the kids rushed after him. While they were leaving out of his sight, he heard:”Watch out, Petar, you could have killed someone.”…then the laughter.

 He was looking around him. The wind stopped and the pieces of paper suddenly seemed to droop on the ground. The next thing you know there was neither the atmosphere nor suitable scenery for a good drama or thriller. He started to run. To run away…Along the quay…To the next bridge…A train…Why doesn’t a train come up? A siren break out into the night…”Yeah, thanks Lord,…for the train”, he was running like on a track..Like he used to when he was winning medals. His goal was in the middle of the bridge… It’s there he was going to tear the ribbon with his chests to become the winner…At last…

Nevertheless,…there was already someone standing on the bridge. It was a girl in a torn white dress. Calmly, as if in a guard…The wind started to blow again. It lifted the dirt. She was in the film frame…The siren…

****

The boy on the rollerblades stopped to check his pockets.

 “Damned it!”, he thought, “the money must have fallen out when I bumped into that guy on the bridge”. “I’ll be right back!”, he shouted to his friends.

  “Hey, you’ve gotta bring ‘em back!”

He knew all right he had to bring the money to Buzga. He was giving them some weed to give it to their peers. He simply flew over to the bridge, but to his big surprise, it was nobody else but him going his way. The fat tattooed breadbasket with his two escorts. The boy literary ran into him. 

  “Well, well…who do I see?...Where you’re heading in such rush?...”, he sneered while he was holding him for his shoulder.

“I’ve been just looking for you…ugh, in fact, I came to get the money… to give you the money…”, Petar was already stammering, because he knew he won’t be able to explain to him.

  “You came for the money? They give money here?”, the breadbasket shook with laughter and then the other two hyenas sneered and laughed as a sign of loyalty. 

“They’ve fallen out here somewhere…Maybe the wind has blown them away…Maybe…”, he already knew it was all in vain.

 “And maybe, they’re in the river? Now, our little birdie’s gonna be a little fish and it’s gonna get going to find the money in the river…”

 Buzga was having a show. It was a play for his servants. He was demonstrating his power, strength… He caught the boy for his neck and pushed him over the fence. The river was shallow. Hardly a meter and so deep. The boy’s body slowly slid down to the bottom, where it remained for a few moments. He felt the gun’s handle with his palm. He even had time there, under the water, to think. Then, he squeezed his fist, bent his knees and turned around in the water. He dug himself with the wheels into the bottom and slowly stood up. Buzga and the other two were standing, leaned on the fence and shrieking and howling with laughter.        

Petar dropped the gun into the water. Slowly, he came closer to the river bank. He climbed up the rocky bank pretty proficiently, although he was still wearing his rollerblades. Then, he climbed up the grassy mound to the macadam-paved walking path. The grass and mud were falling off the wheels while he was rushing to get away. The faster and the farther he could. He’s almost passed the second bridge. Just a bit more. The siren. He’ll do it before the train comes up. Just like in a movie…He had no idea what he was doing. As if he wanted to jump over the railways, but he hit the stones on the railway crossing.  His leg broke…He fell on the railway tracks with all his weight. He couldn’t stand up. His legs were seized up. He made the final effort to open his eyes and he saw a flashing light. Then he turned his head on the other side. He seemed to have seen a girl in a deceitful white dress…The girl who…was running towards him… 

****

Buzga has been sitting in a room when Vera entered. Her brother was standing and waiting with his head bent down.  “He’s gone…leave him alone now, please…”, she whispered. “Oh, the shmug’s gone. Well, that means that besides the boobs, you’ve got some brains, too” Buzga was sneering. He liked to be listened to when he told something important, almost meaningful…”Your brother’s dept’s almost   paid off”. He rose and grabbed her breasts. Each time her brother moved, the two gorillas answered with his fists knocking him down as hard as he fell on the bed. Buzga was the king. The lord of the underground’s bottom. He was pushing her into the other room. Her brother was crying. His animals were laughing.

Epilogue 1

The old cemetery. Petar and Vera were listening to the rite. Trivial speeches of friends who knew not a thing about the deceased.  They were talking something about his triumph and how he saved two young people scarifying himself. And how heroes are quite rare today. “He loved you, didn’t he?”, Petar asked Vera. She spoke nothing…She remembered Nenad’s words about his secret journey and about his sitting in trains waiting for someone to get into that coupé by chance. By chance. Just then. Someone who will finally save him from loneliness. Apart from all the madness that she had to put up with in last few days, she knew that no one would ever love her anymore. There was a life before her that was supposed to end when she grabbed Petar and pushed him away from the railway, remaining on it. That was supposed to be the end. She never knew that Nenad was right behind her and that he pushed her away from the frontal part of the train at the last moment, scarifying himself to save her… Yet, the last thing she remembered was how he actually stood there… calmly…as he was about to come aboard. And to go away somewhere….And a little white butterfly..floating above the railway sleepers…

Epligue 2

At the beginning of the twentieth century, a train station West Palm Beach, the state of Florida, America, was established.  The purple tower was the original part of architecture of a small town near the ocean back then. An old Chinese man came there long before the sun rose, long before the guests arrived. He came closer to the railway, at the exact spot where the opening was supposed to take place. With his silent prayer, he lifted the wooden railway sleeper as if it were made of paper. He placed some small blue stones and a white butterfly under it. Then he put the heavy wooden railway sleeper back on its place and left.

 It was just at the beginning of the twentieth century. Summertime. She was driving her big new car on her way back from work. With her intelligence and charm, she managed to make her way in the biggest gladiator’s arena of all, called the USA. It was a well known home-to-work route on the coast near the ocean. But, it seemed as if someone was steering her wheel in the opposite direction. Not knowing why, she turned to the train station. The car seemed to have parked by itself. She went out of it a bit startled; although it was a long forgotten feeling for her…A black and white stripped train was waiting on the station. The door was open. A P.A. was heard:”The additional streamliner departs after the boarding of the passengers……..A pleasant and blissful ride is guaranteed by The Florida East Coast Railroad. Have a nice trip…” Then an easy melody began and it was like the water started to flow over the platforms. Summertime…People were sitting in an excitement on the benches next to the train station building. Only it didn’t seem they were passengers but the audience who was there to see at last what it’s been dreaming about each night - the flattering wings effect.

 She came closer to the open door. Everybody was watching her. Even the white butterfly floating over the railroad sleepers carefully observed her each move. Just one more step. And another one…And IT had to erase…the bridge…and the cemetery…and Vera and Petar between the railways…Just one more step…A hundred train stops…A thousand trains..And, in front of the open door, travelers not meant to be… Just one more step…

Ahead of the light

…”Anyone who ever reaches for a straw, drowns; but the one who discovers the secret of the sea,  lives on with the complete passion of his limbs, hugging the water and swimming on. Oh, look at the albatross how clumsily it waggles on the Earth. But it takes just a flatter of his wings to become a gentleman in the sky!”… 

Izrael Regardije: Aleister Crowley

Borsko Lake.  A massive hotel with congress halls, courts, beaches and walks along the lake line. The crumbling façades, heating out of order, broken lamps and bare wires perilously overhanging from the pillars, along with the chipped paint and rust on the boats looming through cane grass -  that would be a portrayed decade of collapsed system  which used to work. Rain, cold and wind are only the final touch of the blue scenery. It was June, but it was more likely as it were October…

 Mladen was sitting on a terrace enjoying the rain. He liked cloudy weather. As well as loneliness. Nevertheless, everyone who knew him would say quite the contrary. He must have done his best to prevent people from knowing him under the surface. He was textmessaging:

…“Here comes the rain again

Falling on my head like a memory

Falling on my head like a new emotion

I want to walk in the open wind

I want to talk…“

Then, he waited for the reply. Each second lasted as long as it actually began to hurt. No more than few seconds later, there was a signal and it seemed as if it was a balm to soothe the sore burn in his chest rather than a sound. 

…“like lovers do…“

He was squeezing the mobile, putting it onto his face. He wanted to feel the scent, to hear the laughter or her talking about anything playfully, in cheerful manner…And suddenly a bang, and another one, everything began to swing, a scream, dust, a cracking sound of breaking pillars, pain, darkness, light, darkness again…silence…

…There was no pain, although he was expecting to feel some. Actually, he was struggling to feel his legs and arms. Complete darkness as well as his incapability to move provided that he could rely on his feelings only. Yet, there was no sign of them either. At first, he was comforting himself that his eyes would eventually get used to darkness; but he soon realized that there was not a ray of light around him, just darkness. Oddly, then he anticipated fear, yet, there was none. The only thing which really existed were his memories. Those were the memories of films and news in which somebody always comes in such situations. Yes, someone was going to come soon and get him out of there. In fact, he might not be HERE all alone anyhow. “Hello…”, he said this in some unusual manner, “Hello, anybody there?”Was it the closed space or something else, yet it all sounded like it was coming out of some public address system. He has even thought for a moment he didn’t close his mouth, which was definitely a consequence of the space. „Hey…” . These were not his words. “Hey, I’m here…somewhere…” Good, there’s someone else here. “Are you all right?” ”I’ve never been better. This must have been taken care of back in the Town Hall. They’ve been trying to move us out for quite a long time, now…” “Do you work here?”, Marko asked. “Yup! Actually, I used to. I don’t know if this is an overtime or what…” Mladen was almost glad this was some witty man. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Mladen.” “Mladen? Well, nice to meet you, I’m Mladen, too. Two Mladens in a dump. “ “Three Mladens, actually, enough is enough for a dump like this, don’t you think?” The third voice broke out. “Actually, it’s professor Mladen, just to make it easier”. Well, professor, how do we get out of here? I reckon you’re the smartest one here. I mean I’m a waiter, and who might be the first gentleman?” “An engineer, but for the electricity…crap. That’s what we need now! Say, gentlemen, what we shall eat and drink when we get out of here is my concern, and you think of something what we should do now.” “Nothing. I cannot move, which might be a good thing for we won’t move something we are not supposed to”, replied the professor as if he had to say something in this situation which would sound like he was lecturing. “So, now we wait? Well, let’s wait then. I walk all day long while I serve, anyway; but as far as I know it’ll take few days for those guys from the Town hall to come and get us out, while they clean off their butts of dust, you know..”.  “I’m kind of familiar with that accent of yours. Say, you aren’t from Bor, are you?”, “No, my engineer. I’m from south. I’ve ended up here, though. However, we’re almost colleagues. You see, I’ve been studying that electricity of yours, too, but only for a year.” “And is it better in a tavern or with a book?” “It’s not what you think, professor. You immediately think of bad students who don’t wanna learn. Say, as our friend just said, your accent doesn’t sound like you’re from around here.” “Well, I’m from the south, too. But, I’ve been living and working overseas for almost twenty years now.” “Well, well, then what the hell were you looking for here? Exploring the ruins?” “Huh, yeah, one might say so. You see, before I left, I thought my world had been torn apart, and actually I had a great life. Ruins seem to be doomed for this place.” “Well, I’ve been running away from a ruin for almost twenty years. I knew very well I didn’t have any more money for my studies. I didn’t dare to do something I was supposed to, and here I’m now! Then I found a job, got married once, then again, and there, I go with the flow from a table to table, from a woman to woman…” “And as for you, engineer, you engineers seem to be on a price with women these days, well, not that much as truck drivers and waiters, but still…” “Oh, well, what should I say, a wife, two kids, commuting on home – work route each day, birthdays, feasts, New Year Eves…It might be I’ve made it, since I’ve never been pretty sure what I really wanted. But, you were saying something about you didn’t dare to do something, I’m not quite sure I understood what you meant, but I guess it was something to do with a woman.”   “A woman, a desire, a dream, reality, I’m not quite sure either, after all. It’s like you keep turning back each night there trying to take one more step up that staircase just to give her those bloody lilies of the valley, when you see her with someone else and you just leave them on the fence… God damned it… Oh, what the hell. What shell we drink in the name of that occasion? But, say, how did you get it that it was something to do with a woman? Ain’t you a little devil!” So, you say lilies of the valley, huh? It’s a nice flower. Gorgeous. I used to know someone who smelled like a lily of the valley. But… Now, I’ve got a well-organized garden, two lion cubs to take care of, who are the most beautiful decoration of life. Each day you watch them growing up, becoming stronger and you know you have to protect them even though you’d have to let them go into the forest some day. For they won’t be happy unless they catch a pray on their own and go to some places where you never will.” “Enjoying yourself with them, my engineer?” “Yes. Although, when the roaring stops, then the bloody silence starts again. That bloody, bloody silence. Each day, each night. It was killing me. I got mad and started screaming just to break the silence. I know that all the neighbours thought I was nuts. And you know what, they were right...” “Oh, come on, now, don’t say that, how can you be so sure that the lily of the valley would talk? “Lily of the valley? Yeah, right. Lily of the valley. I recon you’re more than just a waiter… Well, you see, it talked just fine and I listened to it day by day. And I couldn’t wait to hear it again…” “Say, professor, why don’t you say anything? Have you got any lilies of the valley in the garden?”  “Oh, I have a lily of the valley all right. And it’s magnificent. It talks…I never get tired of listening to it or just looking at it…” “Now, that’s a happy man! A man should have guts! A small step on and…” “And you jump. You jump and you never make another move. I’ve jumped of a train once. Not quite well, though. I’ve asked her to marry me there at the station. And we left together. And there it was. She walked on, running and living three lives at a time. And I was just sitting there studying, getting my diplomas and that was it. And we kept adopting lions from time to time. She cuddled them, fed them, cured them and she just knew when to let them go. You couldn’t believe how strong she is. She never let a single teardrop when she took them into a forest and let them be there, well she might drop a tear or two that day, but afterwards…” . And that makes you, my professor, a daddy of many lions, wouldn’t you say so?  You’re gonna get a bottle of the best red wine and it’s gonna be on my treat! I’ve been saving it when I meet someone like you. Actually, I stole it from some strangers when they had some cardiovascular surgeons’ congress. But it’s quite good and expensive. You, me and the engineer’re gonna drink that bottle up.” “I’m in!” “I promise I’m gonna bring some music over, a guitar and a tambour, too. Ok?” “Ok, and I’lm gonna…” A bang. A hit. Darkness, darkness, darkness…Why isn’t there any light? “There’s someone here! Hey, men, there’s someone here!” “Finally! But why is it still dark? Maybe, just my eyes need to get used to the light, that’s all!” There, we can reach him, steady, steady, people, just be careful! Well, it would be a miracle! No…Unfortunately…Not.” “What do you mean no?” Mladen asked. “Get me out of here!” “Unfortunately, no. He isn’t breading. “ “He lost a lot of blood. Dear God! Get that blanket!” “But I talked to those guys a moment ago!” “Hello, is there anyone else here?” the ruins were echoing. “No, he’s alone, there’s no one else inhere.” “It says Mladen on his card. The rest is blurred. Just write Mladen. Drive him off…”

 „…Here comes the rain again

Raining in my head like a tragedy

Tearing me apart like a new

emotion…“

Finally, there’s the light. That was it, then. How many times have I wondered what if? Oh, well, what the hell…

Before the dusk
Or
BLASTS ON THE SUN     

Prologue  

The block of flats was set in downtown. Obviously, some architect, not being keen on employing a tiniest dose of originality into his projects, which had already been realized for decades back then, used to design blocks of flats in a fashion that the rooms had a perfect view at neighbouring windows and terraces in the complex, instead of the city square, a park or natural features. And it was not just the view an issue here. One could hear almost perfectly well the sounds of the immediate or further surrounding: from taking steps, having conversations, arguing up to love groans. Nevertheless, the last one was the most uncommon to be heard.

It was an early morning. Half past four am. The small orange alarm clock, however, remained silent. Marina turned it off last night. She was gazing at the shop she worked at. The lights in the office upstairs, above the shop, were on. Her “boss”, a fat corrupted bastard, one of many who had gained their first million Deutsh marks at 90s, was inside. As he said last night, first, he was to go to a “business” party and afterwards, he would come to his “business lodge”. The business lodge was actually a room he used to get advantage of his female employees. There was a desk, a shelf, and some old frazzled leather sofa bed, a plasma TV to have them watch porno films in order to “educate” themselves. There was a picture on the wall; actually, it was an old black and white photo, put in a cheep frame. It showed some craftsmen and their disciples in front of a workshop and it was taken about hundred years ago. At that time, the room was trenched for a water pipe cracked and it was supposed to be replaced by some workers during that day. As usual, on his way out, he told her to “get her ass there” when he got back early in the morning. There was no way he was going over to that manster, as he called his wife. She put on her soft pink dress. It was swaying as curtains on her slender body. She combed her hair, mantle with an old black coat, put on her faux leather gloves and gently opened the door. Never did her parents either move or wake up at her going to work. She came down the stairs, crossed the street, unlocked the shop’s door and headed towards His Chambers. She went in without knocking. “Where the hell have you been, you bitch?” it was heard out of that breadbasket of his leaned back on the sofa bed. The TV lesson had been on for quite long time. The bunch of jammed black and white bodies was rolling around having sex in any possible poses and ways at the same time. He managed to stand up by rolling down on the ground first then taking hold of the desk. There he stood, pudgy and swaying, reeking with stench of the worst combination of sweat, alcohol and tobacco.  “What the hell are you waiting for, you bitch? Kneel and get down to some work!” Slowly, she got down on one knee. She leaned the other leg on the wall.  She bowed her head. He watched her from above drunk as fish. “What, you wanna say a prayer before your breakfast, or something?” And then he felt an incredibly strong hit in his stomach. She whacked him as hard as she could with both her head and arms in the middle of his perching breadbasket, pushing herself away from the wall. He lost his breath and stepped back as he started falling down in a hole like on a slow motion picture. His body was falling like a candle, so he bumped his head hard on the other side of the trench. His neck snapped as if someone broke a pencil and he fell on his head into the muddy water on the bottom. His face plunged into the mud and then there was silence. She rose from the floor like the knight rises after being dubbed. She didn’t even take a glimpse at the place where the hundred kilos, being so powerful and great just a second ago, have fallen down. She came towards the picture, lift and opened the lid of an improvised safe. She took the leather suitcase with money, closed back the small metal lid and put the picture back. There was the money he was hiding from his wife. How many times she only watched him putting the money inside. Utterly calm, she went out of the shop and went to her apartment again.  She put the suitcase in her wardrobe, changed and waited until six o’clock leaving the clock ringing. Her mother only turned around, looked at their alarm clock on the shelf and muttered something like:” It’s six, you can’t even get some sleep because of her”. She went out slowly. She went to the shop. Half an hour later, she called the police…It was all over until noon - her statement, police investigation and the chief inspector’s conclusion that the owner of the shop, being drunk, slipped in his office and had an accident. His wife told her not to come to work any longer for she was going to sell everything and she would set up something else; as well as not to ask her about the paycheck for she didn’t have anything to do with it…She went back to her flat. She overheard the next-door radio programme about scientist having spotted some insensitive blasts on the Sun, which might affect human behavior. She smiled.   

Marko worked at a public service office. Despite having read a mount of books, being educated and having such knowledge that lots of BAs would be green with envy at, he was bound to fixing water pipe damages. He was enjoying some scientific radio programme about blasts on the Sun when his wife started gossiping over a phone all over again third time in a row about the neighbourhood breaking news. Off course, she was shouting as loudly as he was unable to hear a word over the radio any longer. He got dressed for work and, in spite of being miles away in his mind, it occurred to him that it might be his crew that had dug that hole at that bastard’s across the street. “Well, he’d surely deserved to be buried there”, he thought and crossed himself. “Dear God, please forgive me! What’s the matter with me? It must have been the blasts…” He went out while his wife was too busy with bragging about her being the most informed on the matter to notice him, whatsoever. On his way to his company, he saw a half-opened hatch of a manhole with the rustling sound of water, which could be clearly heard out of it. As a public service worker, he couldn’t simply neglect that fact. The next thing you know, he was wearing his overalls and getting into the manhole to check if it was seriously damaged. He took his cell phone out of his pocket to record the water pipe with a camera, in order to discus with the engineer whether the main vents should be closed down. It didn’t take long before he could hear well-known voices above the hatch. Those were his director and a “business partner” whom they ordered supplies from. “Well, my pal, there are two hundred Euros in the suitcase, just like it was a deal. I’ll take care about the invoices and dimensions with the Bulgarians and you see to the tender, will you?” “Don’t worry. Have there ever been any problems?” He got chills. He has just recorded a video with a conversation on his cell phone with the stars in the frame.  And then there was silence. He went out of the manhole and felt something he hadn’t for a long time. It was joy. He went into the head office facilities. Passing by the secretary, he opened the director office’s door. “Listen, I’ve got no time to talk again about the cracking water pipes and other crap, so, please get out.” he snapped at him, probably pissed because he had to hide the glass of cognac under the desk which he had just poured to himself as the end of his working hours were getting closer, …Marko played on the video in his cell phone. The director’s face went numbed. “Marko…” Marko took the leather suitcase which he recognized. He turned away to the door. Then, he put it down on the floor. He came closer to the desk and he unzipped his pants. Slowly, the squirt of urine started to get over the table like a burst from right side to left, and then it deadly pelted directly into the director’s face, who remained frozen. Marko didn’t think anymore whether the God would forgive him or not; he zipped on his pants, lifted the suitcase, turned away and step by step, like he used to go for a walk along the quay, he started off to the train station… 

 Mladen was a very peculiar and, as others would say, rather complicated guy. Although he had finished several schools and graduated from a few universities, according to the state of affairs, he had a pretty   good salary, but it was lower than his peers’ in the company, and he drove some wreck, too. Nevertheless, he liked his job. He felt like a child among the big machines which he could neither play with nor operate. Many would be glad to try walking in his shoes, but the look on his face was always a bit blue. He was listening about the blasts on the Sun via the old radio which he inherited from a retired fellow worker. His working day was about to be finished. He would usually just turn the computer off and dash. But at that moment he was reading the documents he had signed at his lawyer’s last week. He allocated the shares he had on the market so that his family members could start to dispose a part of them from the age of majority sequencing each next period of five years further on. Also, he allocated a nice sum of money on a dozen of bank accounts throughout several countries. Then, he turned off his computer, cleaned his desk from papers, brought the chair to the desk, said goodbye to the cleaner lady and came towards the company’s gates. There were lots of people at the front gate. Many inquisitive eyes stared at the white sports car parked outside the gate. At the very moment Mladen went out, the car’s door opened. Actually, it was more like it has risen its wings because the door opened upwards. It looked a lot like a marvelous great white seagull, which came down waiting for someone. Not being surprised at all, Mladen came closer to it and went inside, after which the door closed. Almost soundless, the car drove off leaving the puzzled looks behind. “Why didn’t you call me to come back?”, she asked. She seemed different. She was still beautiful, but somehow different. ”’Cause you wouldn’t have.” he replied shortly. “Why didn’t you stop me, you know that we could have changed the world together” A slight dose of anger, being under her harsh control, could be already felt in her voice. “You know you didn’t want that, you’d done the same again. We weren’t made of the same thing… ”. His voice was peaceful, even a bit foolishly joyful. Probably, it was because he was able to spend just a few seconds with her. “I’ll give you next ten, fifty years, as long as you want…” They were getting closer to the train station. “…a month, a day, just don’t…””I have to… and you know it. Thank you for the past few minutes, and twenty years, well, off the record, it was twenty-five, actually, but let’s not talk about the years now.” The car stopped by itself. The door opened upwards. In the horizon, the dusk was slowly being replaced by darkness. “Goodbye.” he said calmly. The train has already been waiting at the station. Gypsies were playing something cheerful. Young girls wearing necklaces of ducats were dancing and singing. The sound of tarabukas, harmonics and trumpets was mixing with the song.  He went into the wagon. At a coupé, he greeted Marko and Marina warmly. They began to laugh and sing along.  The train slowly set off. The song, the laughter, the hauling of sirens all merged…

Epilogue

Granny Andjelija was always the first to come out of the building in the morning. Despite being quite aged, she would collect the plastic bottles, bags and cigarette butts in front of the doorway. She somehow liked the entrance to be always clean and nice. As if she wanted to show to everyone that good people lived there. She looked up and saw three blue obituaries at the wall next to the front door. “Oh, dear Lord…” she muttered. Three persons, neighbours she used to know, died last night. Those were all young people. Marina, Marko and Mladen. “May God bless their souls.” She came up to the front door and opened them. Fairly awkwardly, she stood up as if in a funeral detail. She was no longer sad. The soft warm breeze, pretty much like in spring, fell down spreading throughout the darkness of the hall and the staircase.  It caressed her face gently and headed skywards to find its ultimate peace yearned for too long…