So it was a cold and deserted metro station near to the periphery. Only one person was standing there – a young man, nearly aged 20. As how the strong drink makes you an inveterate drunkard but stimulated, so the draw did with that man. He was breathing in the cold air, as if it was bitter Italian grappa, which wads your body, and felt drunk but stimulated and ready for another battle.
He was wearing a black frock coat, very dirty and un-tidied. His face showed consequences of yesterdays alcohol drinking. It was tortured by a hang-over and was hydropic. He seemed to be worried and relaxed by the time draw had reached him – his body steeled but his eyes were representing the reach inner life of so imperceptible from outside youth. I call him youth, because his eyes were so alive, so prepared for the new adventures, that it was a will to ask: “Where did you leave your skin, soul?” But anger looks at the world around him; his attitude to the reality was so haughty and by that time so vile, that this balanced natures were seen in every movement.
Here, just here a risk of barbs can be seen – the risk of falling down, lower than possible. It seems that he had foreordained himself being miserable and didn’t want someone to re-convince him in this.
He didn’t notice the train arriving. He stepped into the car looking around. He saw only two aged women chatting and nervously looking at him. He tried to smile, to convince them of his commonness and to excuse his appearance.
Suddenly he was injured by the understanding of his miserable state. He wanted to say those women that he is normal, he isn’t a beggar or common; that he goes to university but… How? What is the sense of doing that? Those women will forget him after he leaves the train and they won’t care about the dead soul looking for the exit…
He got off the train at the first closer station. This was more crowded that the other – it was a transfer station. A lot of people were waiting for theirs trains on both sides of the platform. Some of them were reading, some of them were talking, and nearly nobody even had a look at him. Suddenly he became insulted – from a place of attention he had merged into a place of anonymity. Why wasn’t he pleased? He wanted to go away from those women discussing him, and he did; and what next? He was left alone as he wished, but a sudden feeling of depression replaced with the aggression.
He was looking for someone, who would understand him. He noticed one girl, whom he had known before. She was studying in the same university with him. He came closer to her.
“I wish you take to joy in things”, - said he instead of greeting.
She stared confused at him.
“Sorry… Do we know each other?”
He was shocked. A girl, whom he had loved a week ago, and probably loved now, did not recognize him.
“You don’t recognize me… Hm, really, what do you need a childish youth for, and named a Matthew? The stars burn lightly for you, the stars of beauty…” – he felt isolated from all worlds. He felt as a prisoner being led to the execution.
“Matthew? How come it’s you?! You look... Disgusting I may say” – said she with naturally disgusted face.
“I am so… Really. I am nothing more to you than just disgusting. Show me what you are reading…” – he took a book from her.
It was a book with adventure stories. Some poems were printed between the paragraphs:
My friend Kamchat is distant now.
I am heading right to you; to you
Whose beauty followed me
Around the world…
“What are you laughing at?” – She asked annoyed.
“No, nothing… Isn’t my condition now more romantic then these novels about the pretty boys? I mean am I with darkness of my soul not so romantic?” – With these words he kneeled beside her.
She looked discomfortable. She looked around with a confused face and trying to excuse the behavior of the youth.
“Stand up, I beg you! Don’t shame me!” – Said she with anger.
“Shame? I shame you?! Won’t tell you lie to me?” – He stood up and with straight face said – “Go away. Leave me alone.”
She went, sniffing.
He grinned and returned to the platform. He was staring at the wall of the tunnel, not mentioning anything. When the train got closer, he curiously looked inside, seeking something. Disappointment followed.
He returned to the platform and waited for another train. The situation was repeated. He looked inside the car and didn’t find anything. With sad and because of these other ill faces he sat down on a bench.
His eyes were full of hostility to the world itself, and they were not as alive as they were. The place night’s dark had covered him. He was looking for someone who understands him, or for something close to him. But he didn’t find it. He returned to the platform and with indifference looked around. The train was coming. Coming fast. He had done a step further before the train stopped.
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