Eva

She was three years old, maybe a little bit more. She sat alone at the small round table in a coffee shop. She was drawing something on a napkin and eating an apple. An old man with a gray beard approached to the table. He moved a chair out and sat clumsily down, placing a cup of smoking coffee on the table. He glanced at her. She stopped and placed her apple and the pencil on the napkin.
- What's your name, - he asked.
- Eva, - she said and looked at him. Her eyes were full of baby's innocence.
- Eva... - he sighed deeply and did small gulp from the cup.
- You'll grow up, - he continued. – You’ll meet Adam and you both will eat an apple together.
Her big eyes brightened. They already took half of the child's face.
- It'll be the forbidden fruit, - she added and sent for the old man a smile that was filled with embarrassment.
She took the apple with her small palm and made another bit. On the napkin there was still a drawing: a bitten apple like on the open computer near the counter at the coffee bar. The old man took another a gulp; he relaxed and began to snore.
'He's too old to be my Adam', Eva thought. 'May be he's…' she couldn’t say this word aloud been Jewish child.
She crushed the napkin and got up from the table.
Nothing happened. Just there became so dark on the street behind the windows of the coffee shop. Yet there was not an evening – early noon.
Somebody turned off the light.
In the all Universes.