#travel | Olya Aman

The feeling of love comes to the chosen lucky ones and gives them an almost painful sensation of being alive.

Rough creatures cannot be fit for this emotion. Rejoice at being exquisite, gentle and beautiful. Do you want to know more about it? Let me postpone the explanation for a few delicious moments. Dive deep with me into the freshness of this feeling by reading this short story.

It was still drizzling outside. I had nowhere to hurry. I was young and upset. The strange night charmed me, and I was no longer angry at myself for a stupid mistake of missing the train.

I saw a covered bench and noticed the silhouette of the person sitting there. I soon saw it was a boy. Despite the canopy above the bench, his umbrella was open, and it was difficult to see his face. I went to that bench, looked at the boy and asked, “Goodnight. Can I also take refuge? I don’t have an umbrella, and it seems my clothes are starting to get wet.”

The boy raised the umbrella. He had beautiful eyes, made of kindness and silver. His curly hair was wet with rain.

Saying nothing, he moved slightly to the side, making room. I sat down nearby without looking at him. After a moment he told me in a soft, gentle voice, “Do you love rain?”

I felt a mixed sense of surprise and confusion. I did not know what to say to the boy. But it seemed that the answer was not important to him, because after a brief pause he added, “I love it!”

I said, “It’s quite noticeable, that you love rain. You are sitting with an open umbrella, but your hair is wet. This means you’ve been walking with a closed umbrella.” I noticed from the side how a smile appeared on the boy’s face. But he didn’t look at me, “How smart you are! Like a famous detective!”

“I had a terrible day. But rain makes me forget everything. Under the rain, you can hide your sadness. Rain is my weakness. I will get totally wet, but I will continue to stand and enjoy every drop that is falling.”

Ihad been looking at the boy for a long time, being unable to take my eyes off him. He interrupted the pause, “You’re silent.” I shuddered as if waking up after hypnosis, “No… Sorry? I got distracted. I do not know. The rain brings slush and I don’t like it. But judging by your words, it’s as if you were born in the rain.”

The boy voiced his thoughts, “If it hasn’t started raining, I would not have appeared here, and you would sit here alone.” I picked up the topic and expanded it, “Yes… If I didn’t go to my friend’s party at the other end of the city, I would not be late for my train. I would not have come here and would not have met you.”

“Do you regret it?”

I looked at him again, looked away, and lowered my head.

“I don’t regret I met you. You are a good companion.”

Ilooked at the boy, admired the beauty of his hair, his nose, and then interrupted the song of the rain again, “We’ve been sitting here for some time now, and you did not even look in my direction.”

“Why look? Sometimes it is enough that someone is near.” The boy stopped smiling. He closed his umbrella and was about to get up. I asked anxiously, “Are you leaving? Has something happened? Have I offended you?” The boy straightened his coat and tightened the belt. He was holding an umbrella in his right hand.

“No, everything is okay. I just have to go home. It’s too late. And you have to go home too.” I did not want to let him go.

The stranger got up from his place. He touched the ground with the tip of his umbrella and knocked on the asphalt and moved along the sidewalk in slight steps.

I realized that he was blind.

Regret made me goofy. Sorrow gave me an enigmatic flavor. – Olya Aman

My boss fell in love with me and laid me off

I was out of humor and out of heart. It has been almost two years now, but my grief grew fast and furious with every succeeding year. My best friend, the one I was secretly in love with, died from heart failure. Miraculously, we were at the stop sign when it happened, the horn of a car announced the death. His innocent and pathetic face was radiant with new happiness. I couldn’t help wondering how he could be so glad to leave me alone. Sitting on a front passenger seat, I unconsciously called to mind a portrait I saw in a gallery some years ago. The painter neglected the background, reserving all the magic of his brush for the quiet, happy face of a man. My friend at that moment looked just like him, as if he had caught the golden glory of heaven on his countenance.

He felt discomfort in his chest for a few weeks before the terrible culmination on that day. I mentioned to him several times that he needed to see a doctor. I blamed myself for lack of persistence. And the regret I felt had a sensation of almost maternal protection. Its watchful eye never left my side. It didn’t let my mind wander elsewhere. Some days I could feel the throbbing of his heart as if he was pressed in an affectionate embrace close to my chest. Those days were worse than others.

I would do impossibilities to bring him back. I owed my happiness to him. It felt like an explosion now when he was gone. And I could not pick up the fragments with all the care of an antiquary I applied. I became stifle. My mind and soul were on fire, and that blaze seemed to gleam from hell. There was no space left for new emotions.

That dark, evening power that dominated in my life had some magnetic energy that attracted empathetic people. There are some ways of looking at you that seem to penetrate your soul. I looked at people and made them feel as though they had nothing on. That irritated a lot and captivated many. A coworker once told me I looked like someone who belonged in an old painting. And my gloomy voice could talk the language of enigmatic gallantry of that time.

I often was behind handed with my work, but my senior manager closed his eyes on every mismatch in my schedule. The tension was growing. I could not see the outpouring lava of affection that I excited. My handsome boss was on fire, like a human volcano he loved me with the fierce of unchained nature.

But I was a different person after 2 years of mourning. I gazed about me with a saddened eye, paying attention to the dim side of life. That desire to expand every misfortune in daily life and minimize the impact of many little jolly things was roasting me alive. I needed thunder and lightning to wake me up and transform that death-like, sepulchral look into my regular prior-to-the-fatal-day features.

My heart finally spoke to me, and I happened to take to it. The blow of losing a job served as a curing disaster that shook my essence. When enough time was given to self-wandering, I realized that there were still pages in my life book that I had not read.

Actress / Writer / Producer