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Her hand ached, inexorably and wildly.. but the pain did not press, but as if the AMC dips by itself, like an egg laid by a bird …

She remembered a dark dove with an orange eye and a small bead of a black pupil, she looked at her in surprise and bitterly, tried to catch something and understand …

“She probably thinks that I took her egg, a pinkish hot ball, probably … She is sad and seems to be crying, oh, birds don’t know how to cry … I don’t even know.

In the morning, a motley, like a chessboard, flew in, chirped, flapped its wings, went beyond the partition, rustled with a white package and flew away .. there was nothing there, a raven gray as the sky appeared, croaked and also flew away, there was nothing in the nest …

“Maybe he thought there might be more eggs in there.”

Her thoughts became small and narrow, like pockets squeezed under arrest.. your throat was blocked, oxygen was cut off, and you still live.. a strange mouse with thoughts and breath…

She put three elastic bands on her hand, blue as the sea, pink as flowers and yellow as the yolk of an egg … And they all could not understand her …

Why live if the moments flow like rivers around you…

And she hid under the covers and froze to sleep …

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