Unwritten stories.

Three

“The summer is leaving the scene”, said the carmine tree leaf, when flying in front of Olya’s face.

After sharing its melancholic thought, the leaf headed dramatically to the ground in little loops and circle dance-like movements. Then, right before landing on the ground, it made one final turn, went around the shaggy dog’s head, tempting him to follow the flight with wonderment, and finally laid itself on the pavement in slow motion.

The dog looked at its owner as if to ask whether what the leaf said was true. But Olya did not notice the questioning face of the puppy. She was busy scanning the trees for other leaves dressed in warm colors – in preparation for the cold weather ahead.

The sun was not as warm as it was just a few weeks ago. The clouds, hiding it for a minute or two from people’s tanned faces, were already able to make you shiver. The brightness of the day was not as cozy. The night had started to arrive earlier in the day. School had started. The sea was cold and the seaside – deserted.

The rainy weather of the last couple of weeks had brought the feeling of spring – now that the sun was up and shining again. However, this scarce warmth on one’s face was really nothing like the first days of spring – it didn’t bring the delight of hope, or the joyful anticipation of a new beginning.

Olya took a cold breath, as if to clear the sunny thoughts from the drawers of her last-season mind, and let a warm breath through her scarlet pug nose.

She looked at her dog, who was sniffing the autumn leave on the ground with curiosity, and said: “come on, Shaggy, it’s time to go make some tea at home”.

Unwritten stories.

Two

Olya came back home.

She was quite tired. She was, actually, exhausted... yet, satisfied.

She was doing great with her new job, she had time for her hobbies, all her friends and family were (and made her) happy. She just moved into her new sunny appartment after the greatest summer getaway one can possibly have. Her fridge was full, her heart was full.

She had just talked on the phone to her dearest friend who said her baby had made his first steps. Olya thought she wished she had been there to see it. Then she wished it was her child making his first steps.

She walked to her full fridge, on an empty stomach, and took a cold beer. Then quickly chose a movie and seated herself comfortably into the new sofa which had the ability to hug you lovingly.

Olya started the movie and tucked both feet under the tights - in order to complete the ultimate after-work warm home experience. Then she finally reached for her beer, opened it, had a sip of it and suddenly froze in surprise.

She could open a beer can?

It was her ex-husband doing it for her in the last seven years, because she had once said, during their first date, that she never opened a can - she was afraid she would hurt her fingernails.. Naturally, she was now surprised with the discovery. But happy. It turns out she was finally perfectly fine with herself. By herself.

Olya smiled. Snuggled into the sofa. Took another sip and turned her attention back to the movie.

Her shaggy dog joined her on the sofa.

Unwritten stories.

One

It was early. That kind of early they sing songs about.

She didn't really feel like making her eyes stay open for the rest of the day, but the dog was waiting impatiently.

Olya browsed through the stack of clothes she did not mind beeing seen in at sunrise... let the sweater slide past her dreaming head... and made each of her legs go through the holes of a pair of old shorts she and her mom once sewed out of her dad's favorite college jeans.

The dog was watching each of her moves with some sleepy curiosity. He was still sitting by Olya's warm bed, yawning constantly, with a high-pitched noice coming out of his mouth right before it gets shut.

Minutes later, the two were out in the dawn, dishevelled, one with a pair of trainers on, the other - on a loosely-held leash. They walked sluggishly into the park. The sun had already started to cut in through the leaves, drawing yellow spots on the green grass.

There was nobody else in the park. And the nature had already told Olya about that.

When passing between the two chestnut trees at the entrance, she felt a thin thread of spider silk touch her face. Then it broke. The two disconnected pieces of silk started to descend slowly, sketching inexistant creatures, when met by a sunbeam.

Olya knew. She was the first one to walk into the calm world of morning bird songs. She was the winner. She had broken the finish line tape. And now the night was finally over. Conquered by Olya. On behalf of the new day.