It was last year for my birthday. We lived together with my boyfriend for about six months, and before that I did not notice such romanticism. I did not know what he was capable of.
And now my birthday is coming, and we quarrel. I'm leaving for my mom, and I'm sitting there for a month. I'm a freelancer and, as they say in public, designed for fools, "I can work, sitting on the beach under a palm tree in Bali."
Mom does not have palm trees, but there are raspberries and strawberries, and I work, reclining on the couch with a laptop on my knees. Also I am adjusted on how I will not respond on SMS now. Proud and unapproachable. And they are not present - neither calls, nor SMS !!!
Of course, I'm in shock. This love is six months! And not a single SMS after a fight. I dive into work - work, as you know, is the best doctor.
And now I return in a month. I enter my entrance and think: "Does he really live in our apartment? Without me? (we rented an apartment, and tomorrow the landlady had to come for another portion of the money) ".
We lived on the fifth floor, and already on the third I begin to feel a strange smell. It's like I'm in the warehouse of some Timur or Ashot, and all his fruits have rotted in stock. Citrus.
The higher I climb, the stronger the smell. And on my fifth floor there is no doubt that the smell is from our apartment. Because on the site we live alone. Below, there are some old women with cats. And that's all.
Open the door - the smell knocks down. I find a wet napkin, put it to my nose and go in.
The apartment is one-room. In the middle there is a wide sofa, constantly unfolded, covered with a coverlet. On the coverlet is a bouquet of roses that have dried and become gray from pink. And around the whole floor - from the sofa to the door - is laid out with oranges. Decayed.
When I opened the windows, so that it did not stink, I went - I was looking for at least one whole orange - no! For a month all rotted.
And what happened is this. My precious romantic got into an accident the day after he posted this installation in our apartment. It took him 100 kilograms of oranges. And he himself went to the hospital - without a phone, money and documents, he was in neurosurgery with a head injury. He underwent surgery, for two weeks he was unconscious, then came to himself, he called his name. When I called up all the city hospitals and was about to go to the police, they told me in one of the hospitals that he was lying there.
I used to like oranges very much, but I have not eaten them for a year. Very unpleasant memories remained, as I cleaned all night and washed the apartment and took out 100 kg of rotten oranges in the trash.
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