Read short stories about love in life. Touching: short but vital stories about love and family. Margarita and Alexander Tuchkov: fidelity to love

People from different countries talk about joyful moments in their lives... (translation of the article “Tiny Love Stories to Make You Smile” on fit4brain.com)

Today I told my 18-year-old grandson that no one invited me to my high school graduation, so I didn't go. He showed up at my house this evening, dressed in a suit, and took me to his prom as his date.

Today I was sitting in the park, eating my sandwich for lunch, when I saw a car with an elderly couple pull up to an old oak tree nearby. His windows rolled down and the sounds of good jazz could be heard. Then the man got out of the car, helped his companion out, took her a few meters away from the car, and for the next half hour they danced under an ancient oak tree to the sounds of beautiful melodies.

Today I operated on a little girl. She needed the first blood type. We didn't have one, but her twin brother has the same group. I explained to him that this was a matter of life and death. He thought for a moment and then said goodbye to his parents. I didn't pay attention until we drew blood and he asked, "So when do I die?" He thought he was giving his life for her. Fortunately, they are both fine now.

Today my dad is the best father anyone could ask for. He loving husband to my mother (always makes her laugh), he's been to every one of my soccer games since I was 5 years old (I'm 17 now), and he provides for our entire family as a construction foreman. This morning, when I was looking through my father's toolbox for pliers, I found dirty folded paper at the bottom. It was an old journal entry written by my father exactly a month before the day I was born. It read: “I am eighteen years old, an alcoholic college dropout, a failed suicide victim, a victim of child abuse, and a criminal history of auto theft. And next month, “teen dad” will also appear on the list. But I swear that I will do everything right for my baby. I will be the father I never had." And I don't know how he did it, but he did it.

Today my 8 year old son hugged me and said, “You best mom in the world". I smiled and asked sarcastically, “How do you know? You haven’t seen all the mothers in the world.” But my son, in response to this, hugged me even tighter and said: “I saw it.” My world is you."

Today I saw an elderly patient with severe Alzheimer's disease. He can rarely remember his own name and often forgets where he is and what he said a minute earlier. But by some miracle (and I think this miracle is called love), every time his wife comes to visit him, he remembers who she is and greets her with “Hello, my beautiful Kate.”

Today my Labrador is 21 years old. He can barely stand up, can barely see or hear anything, and doesn't even have the strength to bark. But every time I enter the room, he wags his tail happily.

Today is our 10th anniversary, but since my husband and I were recently unemployed, we agreed not to spend money on gifts. When I woke up this morning, my husband was already in the kitchen. I went downstairs and saw beautiful wild flowers all over the house. There were at least 400 of them, and he really didn't spend a penny.

My 88 year old grandmother and her 17 year old cat are both blind. My grandmother is helped around the house by a guide dog, which is natural and normal. However, recently the dog began to lead the cat around the house. When a cat meows, the dog comes up and rubs its nose against it. Then the cat gets up and begins to follow the dog - to the food, to the “toilet”, to the chair in which she likes to sleep.

Today my older brother donated his bone marrow for the 16th time to help me treat cancer. He communicated directly with the doctor, and I didn’t even know about it. And today my doctor told me that the treatment seems to be working: “The number of cancer cells has dropped dramatically in the last few months.”

Today I was driving home with my grandfather when he suddenly made a U-turn and said: “I forgot to buy a bouquet of flowers for grandma. Let's go to the florist on the corner. It will only take a second." “What is so special today that you have to buy her flowers?” I asked. “Nothing special,” said grandfather. “Every day is special. Your grandmother loves flowers. They make her smile."
Today I re-read the suicide letter I wrote on September 2, 1996, two minutes before my girlfriend knocked on the door and said, “I'm pregnant.” Suddenly I felt that I wanted to live again. Today she is my beloved wife. And my daughter, who is already 15 years old, has two younger brothers. From time to time I re-read this suicide letter to remind myself how grateful I am to have a second chance to live and love.

Today, my 11-year-old son speaks fluent sign language because his friend Josh, with whom he grew up since infancy, is deaf. I love seeing their friendship grow stronger every year.

Today I am the proud mother of a 17-year-old blind boy. Although my son was born blind, this did not stop him from studying excellently, becoming a guitarist (the first album of his band has already exceeded 25,000 downloads online) and a great guy for his girlfriend Valerie. Today his little sister asked him what he loved most about Valerie and he replied, “Everything. She's beautiful."

Today I served an elderly couple in a restaurant. They looked at each other in such a way that it was immediately clear that they loved each other. When the man mentioned that they were celebrating their anniversary, I smiled and said, “Let me guess. You have been together for many, many years.” They smiled and the woman said, “Actually, no. Today is our fifth anniversary. We both outlived our spouses, but fate gave us another chance to love.”

Today my dad found my little sister alive, chained to the wall in the barn. She was kidnapped near Mexico City five months ago. Authorities gave up searching for her two weeks after she disappeared. My mother and I came to terms with her death - we buried her last month. Our whole family and her friends came to the funeral. Everyone except her father - he was the only one who continued to look for her. “I love her too much to give up,” he said. And now she's home - because he really didn't give up.

Today I found in our papers my mother’s old diary, which she kept in high school. It contained a list of qualities she hoped to someday find in her boyfriend. This list is an almost exact description of my father, but my mother only met him when she was 27.

Today in the school chemistry lab, my partner was one of the most beautiful (and popular) girls in the whole school. And although I had not even dared to talk to her before, she turned out to be very simple and sweet. We chatted and laughed during class, but in the end we still got an A (she also turned out to be smart). After that we started communicating outside of class. Last week, when I found out that she had not yet chosen who to go to the school prom with, I wanted to invite her, but again I didn’t have the courage. And today, during lunch break in a cafe, she ran up to me and asked if I would like to invite her. So I did, and she kissed me on the cheek and said, “Yes!”

Today my grandfather has an old photograph on his nightstand from the 60s of him and his grandmother laughing happily at some party. My grandmother died of cancer in 1999 when I was 7. Today I stopped by his house and my grandfather saw me looking at this photo. He came up to me, hugged me and said, “Remember, just because something doesn’t last forever doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

Today I tried to explain to my two daughters, ages 4 and 6, that we would have to move from our four-bedroom house to an apartment with just two until I found a new well-paying job. The daughters looked at each other for a moment, and then the youngest asked: “Are we all going to move there together?” “Yes,” I replied. “Well, then there’s nothing wrong with it,” she said.
Today I was sitting on the hotel balcony and saw a couple in love walking on the beach. It was clear from their body language that they were truly enjoying each other's company. As they came closer, I realized that they were my parents. And 8 years ago they almost got divorced.

Today, when I tapped my wheelchair and told my husband, “You know, you are the only reason I would like to be free of this thing,” he kissed my forehead and replied, “Honey, I don’t even notice it.”

Today my grandparents, who were in their nineties and had been together for 72 years, both died in their sleep, about an hour apart.

Today my 6 year old autistic sister said her first word – my name.

Today, at the age of 72, 15 years after my grandfather's death, my grandmother is remarrying. I am 17 years old, and in my entire life I have never seen her so happy. It’s so inspiring to see people at that age so in love with each other. It's never too late.

On this day, almost 10 years ago, I stopped at an intersection and another car crashed into me. His driver was a student at the University of Florida - like me. He apologized cordially. While we were waiting for the police and the tow truck, we started talking and soon couldn’t help but laugh at each other’s jokes. We exchanged numbers and the rest is history. We recently celebrated our 8th anniversary.

Today, as my 91-year-old grandfather (military doctor, war hero and successful businessman) lay in his hospital bed, I asked him what he considered his greatest achievement. He turned to his grandmother, took her hand and said: “The fact that I grew old with her.”

Today, as I watched my 75-year-old grandparents in the kitchen having fun and laughing at each other's jokes, I realized that I had a brief glimpse of what true love is. I hope someday I will be able to find her.
On this day, exactly 20 years ago, I risked my life to save a woman who was being swept away by the fast current of the Colorado River. This is how I met my wife - the love of my life.

Today, on our 50th wedding anniversary, she smiled at me and said, “I wish I had met you sooner.”

What could be more beautiful than love in our practical world? In all centuries, poems have been written about her, books and paintings have been written, music and songs have been dedicated, lives have been thrown at her feet. There is no other more valuable, but also dangerous, gift of human nature. Love is both holy and dissolute, it is the muse for exploits and the reason for recklessness, the reason for war and for peace. It is impossible to list the areas where love rules the roost; most likely, such areas do not even exist. Once it is removed from the foreground, it is difficult to imagine what value will remain in human life.

But today we will talk a little about love in the genre of literary prose, about short stories about love or not so short ones. The author of these lines and books also turned out to be no exception; in the literary craft, and for him, love is the key moment.

Short stories about love are an amazing thing, both for the reader and for the author. Novels, as a rule, are large books, which take a lot of time to read, or even more so to write, which is in greatest short supply in our age. But in short stories about love, especially those that can be read online and for free, the main advantage is that they are short. The author can quickly try to make himself known, and the reader can even more quickly assess the degree of interest in a particular author. Of course, this applies not only to short stories about love, but also to short prose of any other genre, but it is no secret that the most intriguing stories, short stories, novellas, and novels are always about love.

After a short lyrical introduction or digression, the author will allow himself to move on to a brief announcement of some short stories, of course, about love.

Now the author would like to dwell on the announcement of several more works that cannot be called short stories, but suddenly they will become interesting to the respected reader. Everything is serious here, but, again, it couldn’t have happened without love and its intricacies.

So:

GANGSTER AND BANDIT. This time a humorous story about love, which also cannot be called short. The action takes place again in the USA, only about a century ago. The love of a young guy from the slums for his beautiful wife, who longed to become successful and rich, was so great that at one moment it forced him to dramatically change first his life, then the life of his hometown, make significant adjustments to the criminal world, and only then the opportunity arose to subjugate the irrepressible other half.

Beautiful stories about romantic relationships. Here you will also find sad stories about unrequited, unhappy love, and you can also give advice on how to forget your ex-boyfriend or ex-wife.

If you also have something to tell about this topic, you can absolutely free right now, and also support other authors who find themselves in similar difficult life situations with your advice.

2011. I came to a new school, a new class, and school began. There was a boy from a parallel class, a strange one, who followed me all the time, looked at me, observed me. At that time I was still on social media. network, found his account, started looking, a message came from him, responded, and started communicating. He turned out to be a very normal boy. With time .

A year has passed, during the year we quarreled thousands of times, made up thousands of times. We graduate from school in May, we went to go to college, he followed me, we entered one college, one group. Third course. It’s been four years since we’ve been together, we knew each other by heart, one soul for two, we understood each other without words.

From early childhood, we were neighbors and spent our entire childhood together, in total we have been together for 17 years, there was a lot between us, we helped each other out more than once, and we are simply family people

When we were teenagers, he was in love with me, but I didn’t understand it, since I was 3 years younger than him, he coped with his love and we continued to be friends.

After a while, I realized that for me he is not just a friend, but I love him madly and don’t want to share him with anyone. He is dear to me and the best. At this time, he had a second wave of love, and everything could have worked out for us, but something went wrong, and then I completely left to study in another city and we began to rarely communicate.

Surely my story is not much different from the stories of many, even millions of girls. The situation is quite common and banal. In short, I am a young girl, beautiful, interesting, funny, smart, very creative and pathologically unlucky in love. Having read beautiful books about love as a child, I imagined an ideal relationship for myself, one that would be sincere, bright, pure, built on trust, respect and intimacy. And now for the umpteenth time I am lying at home in my bed and sobbing out loud.

I have a boyfriend. He's good, but he doesn't love me. He told me stories about his exes and how much he loved them. But during the year of our relationship, I never heard these three cherished words from him. And I still wait and hope that he will realize that he will understand that he will appreciate me. It's stupid and smacks of masochism. But it is very difficult to command the heart.

I am a young mother, I have a daughter, she is one year old. My husband reproached me from the moment we left the hospital. He said that he would take her from me and raise her himself. There were many such requests addressed to me.

There was a reason to say so, little attention was paid to it. I was afraid of my daughter, when she was born, I didn’t know what to do with her. I wanted someone else to deal with her. I was shocked. Then I seemed to get used to it, there was even pride. But when I get really tired, I’m ready to give my daughter to someone else’s aunt. I get so angry at her when she yells. I grab her hands and squeeze her hard, and I get angry again. I can't help it. Then I sober up and realize that she is not to blame for anything. The fact is that my husband began to drink a lot, even though he promised me to stop. Which helps me little with the child and at the same time reproaches me for not sacrificing my strength and time to work with the child, but doing unnecessary things, such as manicures or pedicures. Like, why do I need this, and recently he told me to cut my nails.

I am 26 years old. I live with a man who... Before this event, we had a relationship for about a year. Well, how to say relationships. I became depressed and lost interest in work. It all started when we started working together. He got a job in our organization. We talked purely about work for six months. Then everything just started spinning. She was unable to get out of this on her own. His wife constantly cheated on him. As a result, she found herself a young man and moved out. They have a common child, 6 years old. Lives with his mother. The child is wonderful. My relationship with him is excellent. He picks him up often. There are no questions for his parents either. He introduced us right away. But I still don’t find a place for myself for many reasons.

Broke up with my boyfriend. Three years of relationship. We are 21 years old. The last six months have been difficult for both, a lot of misunderstandings, quarrels, the desire of one to leave for another country, and the second to stay in their homeland. The guy’s attitude towards marriage is incomprehensible; he doesn’t understand why it is, whether he needs children, where we will live and what to eat. But everything started differently. As a result, the decision was made to leave. It will be easier this way. This is my and his first relationship, the first love, so to speak, serious.

In a few days it will be our wedding anniversary; we’ve been together for almost four years. We will celebrate this anniversary separately, or rather, we will simply look at this date on the calendar.

I got married 4 years ago at a fairly conscious age - 28 years old. I met my future husband by chance at my job in a store. And everything started spinning. He looked after me beautifully. Looking at him, I realized that this was the person I was ready to be with for the rest of my life. And so he proposed to me. Of course I agreed. Since his work involves constant translations, I had to quit my job and leave my old life. But I didn’t care, as long as I was next to my loved one. And so we left.

Sometimes it seems to me that we die more than once. We die after the end of each subsequent stage in life. Childhood ended - the first death, youth ended - the second, love with one person ended - the third, love with another ended - the fourth, and so on.

I have already had many such deaths. I especially remember one: when the one I loved announced his imminent wedding. I had no hope of getting him back, but I hoped to the last. And then I realized that I simply had no reason to live without him. And she died. And then the other me went - lonely, frozen without human warmth, desperate. Then a lot of things happened to me, but it doesn’t matter.

Now I am not living my life. I am with a stranger to me, my house has become a stranger to me, everything has changed, and sometimes I want to get up, shake off all this new stuff like ashes, and return to my old, real life. Back to where he was. Where we haven't agreed on so many things. Where I was desperate, brave, purposeful, cheerful, joked, laughed, believed in something. I was alive. I was real. I was sincere. I loved and I hated. I wanted to live. I was ready to die for those I loved.

Now I'm 29 years old. At the age of 19, I started dating a guy, then we began to live together, a child was born (I was 21 years old). He worked in the police, drank, and began to raise his hand. All the way my mother-in-law gave advice on how to live, reproaching me for not making her son happy.

In general, we lived together for 4 years and I filed for divorce. I've been divorced for 5 years now. I do not maintain any relations with former relatives. My husband has another family and has a child. Doesn't communicate with his child.

I live separately from my parents and earn good money. After the divorce there were a couple of short novels. Now I have been in a relationship with a man who is 60 years old for six months. He has a common-law wife with whom he has lived for about 13 years.

Dear friend! On this page you will find a selection of small or rather even very small stories with deep spiritual meaning. Some stories are only 4-5 lines, some a little more. Every story, no matter how short, reveals a larger story. Some stories are light and humorous, others are instructive and suggest deep philosophical thoughts, but all of them are very, very sincere.

The short story genre is notable for the fact that in a few words a big story is created, which invites you to stretch your brains and smile, or pushes the imagination into a flight of thoughts and understandings. After reading just this one page, you may get the impression that you have mastered several books.

This collection contains many stories about love and the theme of death, so close to it, the meaning of life and the spiritual experience of every moment. People often try to avoid the topic of death, but in several short stories on this page it is shown from such an original side that it makes it possible to understand it in a completely new way, and therefore begin to live differently.

Happy reading and interesting emotional experiences!

“Recipe for female happiness” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

Masha Skvortsova dressed up, put on makeup, sighed, made up her mind - and came to visit Petya Siluyanov. And he treated her to tea and amazing cakes. But Vika Telepenina didn’t dress up, didn’t put on makeup, didn’t sigh - and simply came to Dima Seleznev. And he treated her to vodka with amazing sausage. So there are countless recipes for women’s happiness.

"In Search of Truth" - Robert Tompkins

Finally, in this remote, secluded village, his search ended. Truth sat in a dilapidated hut by the fire.
He had never seen an older, uglier woman.
- Are you - Really?
The old, wizened hag nodded solemnly.
- Tell me, what should I tell the world? What message to convey?
The old woman spat into the fire and answered:
- Tell them that I am young and beautiful!

"Silver Bullet" - Brad D. Hopkins

Sales have fallen for six straight quarters. The ammunition factory suffered catastrophic losses and was on the verge of bankruptcy.
Chief Executive Scott Phillips had no idea what was going on, but shareholders were sure to blame him.
He opened the desk drawer, took out a revolver, put the muzzle to his temple and pulled the trigger.
Misfire.
“Okay, let’s take care of the product quality control department.”

"Once Upon a Time There Was Love"

And one day the Great Flood came. And Noah said:
“Only every creature - in pairs! And for singles - ficus!!!"
Love began to look for a mate - Pride, Wealth,
Glory, Joy, but they already had companions.
And then Separation came to her and said:
"I love you".
Love quickly jumped into the Ark with her.
But Separation actually fell in love with Love and did not
I wanted to part with her even on earth.
And now Separation always follows Love...

“Sublime Sadness” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

Love sometimes brings sublime sadness. At dusk, when the thirst for love was completely unbearable, student Krylov came to the house of his beloved, student Katya Moshkina from a parallel group, and climbed up the drainpipe to her balcony to make a confession. On the way, he diligently repeated the words that he would say to her, and got so carried away that he forgot to stop in time. So I stood sad all night on the roof of the nine-story building until the firefighters removed it.

“Mother” – Vladislav Panfilov

The mother was unhappy. She buried her husband and son, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. She remembered them small and thick-cheeked, and gray-haired, and hunched over. The mother felt like a lonely birch tree among a forest scorched by time. The mother begged to grant her death: any, the most painful one. Because she is tired of living! But I had to live on... And the only joy for the mother were the grandchildren of her grandchildren, just as big-eyed and chubby-cheeked. And she nursed them and told them all her life, and the lives of her children and her grandchildren... But one day giant blinding pillars grew around her mother, and she saw how her great-great-grandchildren were burned alive, and she herself screamed from the pain of melting skin and pulled to the sky withered yellow hands and cursed him for her fate. But the sky responded with a new whistle of cutting air and new flashes of fiery death. And in convulsions, the Earth began to stir, and millions of souls fluttered into space. And the planet tensed up in nuclear apoplexy and exploded into pieces...

The little pink fairy, swinging on an amber branch, chirped for the umpteenth time to her friends about how many years ago, flying to the other end of the universe, she noticed a bluish-green small planet sparkling in the rays of space. “Oh, she’s so wonderful! Oh! She is so beautiful! - the fairy cooed. “I've been flying over the emerald fields all day! Azure lakes! Silvery rivers! I felt so good that I decided to do some good deed!” And I saw a boy sitting alone on the shore of a tired pond, and I flew up to him and whispered: “I want to fulfill your deepest wish! Tell me it!” And the boy looked up at me with beautiful dark eyes: “It’s my mother’s birthday today. I want her, no matter what, to live forever!” “Oh, what a noble desire! Oh, how sincere it is! Oh, how sublime it is!” - the little fairies sang. “Oh, how happy is this woman who has such a noble son!”

“Lucky” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

He looked at her, admired her, trembled when he met: she sparkled against the background of his mundane everyday life, was sublimely beautiful, cold and inaccessible. Suddenly, having given her plenty of his attention, he felt that she, as if melting under his scorching gaze, began to reach out to him. And so, without expecting it, he came into contact with her... He came to his senses when the nurse was changing the bandage on his head.
“You are lucky,” she said affectionately, “rarely anyone survives from such icicles.”

"Wings"

“I don’t love you,” these words pierced the heart, turning out the insides with sharp edges, turning them into minced meat.

“I don’t love you,” simple six syllables, only twelve letters that kill us, shooting merciless sounds from our lips.

“I don’t love you,” there is nothing worse when a loved one says them. The one for whom you live, for whom you do everything, for whom you can even die.

“I don’t love you,” my eyes darken. First, peripheral vision turns off: a dark veil envelops everything around, leaving a small space. Then flickering, iridescent gray dots cover the remaining area. It's completely dark. You only feel your tears, a terrible pain in your chest, squeezing your lungs like a press. You feel squeezed and try to take up as little space as possible in this world, to hide from these hurtful words.

“I don’t love you,” your wings, which covered you and your loved one in difficult times, begin to crumble with already yellowed feathers, like November trees under a gust of autumn wind. A piercing cold passes through the body, freezing the soul. Only two processes, covered with light fluff, already stick out from the back, but even this withers away from the words, crumbling into silver dust.

“I don’t love you,” the letters dig into the remains of the wings like a screeching saw, tearing them out of the back, tearing the flesh to the shoulder blades. Blood flows down the back, washing away the feathers. Small fountains gush out from the arteries and it seems that new wings have grown - bloody wings, light, airy and spraying.

“I don’t love you,” there are no more wings. The blood stopped flowing, drying into a black crust on the back. What used to be called wings are now only barely noticeable tubercles, somewhere at the level of the shoulder blades. There is no more pain and the words remain just words. A set of sounds that no longer cause suffering, that don’t even leave traces.

The wounds have healed. Time cures…
Time heals even the worst wounds. Everything passes, even the long winter. Spring will come anyway, melting the ice in the soul. You hug your loved one, the dearest person, and clasp him with snow-white wings. Wings always grow back.

- I love you…

“Ordinary scrambled eggs” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

“Go, leave everyone. It’s better to be alone: I’ll freeze, I’ll be unsociable, like a bump in a swamp, like a snowdrift. And when I lie down in the coffin, don’t you dare come to me to sob to your heart’s content for your own good, bending over the fallen body left by the muse, and the pen, and the shabby, oil-stained paper...” Having written this, the sentimentalist writer Sherstobitov re-read what he had written thirty times, he added “cramped” in front of the coffin and was so imbued with the resulting tragedy that he could not stand it and shed a tear for himself. And then his wife Varenka called him to dinner, and he was pleasantly satisfied with vinaigrette and scrambled eggs with sausage. Meanwhile, his tears had dried up, and he, returning to the text, first crossed out “cramped”, and then instead of “laying down in a coffin” he wrote “laying down on Parnassus”, because of which all subsequent harmony went to dust. “Well, to hell with harmony, I’d better go and stroke Varenka’s knee...” Thus, an ordinary scrambled egg was preserved for the grateful descendants of the sentimentalist writer Sherstobitov.

"Destiny" - Jay Rip

There was only one way out, for our lives were intertwined in too tangled a knot of anger and bliss to solve everything any other way. Let's trust the lot: heads - and we will get married, tails - and we will part forever.
The coin was tossed. She tinkled, spun and stopped. Eagle.
We stared at her in bewilderment.
Then, with one voice, we said, “Maybe one more time?”

“Chest” – Daniil Kharms

A man with a thin neck climbed into the chest, closed the lid behind him and began to choke.

“Here,” the man with a thin neck said, gasping, “I’m suffocating in the chest, because I have a thin neck.” The lid of the chest is closed and does not allow air to reach me. I will be suffocating, but I still won’t open the lid of the chest. Little by little I will die. I will see the struggle of life and death. The fight will take place unnaturally, with equal chances, because death naturally wins, and life, doomed to death, only fights in vain with the enemy, until the last minute, without losing vain hope. In this same struggle that will happen now, life will know the way to win: for this, life must force my hands to open the lid of the chest. Let's see: who wins? Only it smells awfully like mothballs. If life wins, I’ll cover the things in the chest with shag... Here it begins: I can’t breathe anymore. I'm dead, that's clear! There is no salvation for me anymore! And there is nothing sublime in my head. I'm suffocating!...

Oh! What is it? Now something has happened, but I can't figure out what it is. I saw something or heard something...
Oh! Did something happen again? My God! I can't breathe. I think I'm dying...

What else is this? Why am I singing? I think my neck hurts... But where is the chest? Why do I see everything that is in my room? There's no way I'm lying on the floor! Where's the chest?

The thin-necked man rose from the floor and looked around. The chest was nowhere to be found. On the chairs and bed were things taken from the chest, but the chest was nowhere to be found.

The man with the thin neck said:
“This means that life has defeated death in a way unknown to me.”

"Wretched" - Dan Andrews

They say evil has no face. Indeed, no feelings were reflected on his face. There was not a glimmer of sympathy on him, but the pain was simply unbearable. Can't he see the horror in my eyes and the panic on my face? He calmly, one might say, carried out his dirty work professionally, and at the end he politely said: “Rinse your mouth, please.”

"Dirty laundry"

One married couple moved to live in a new apartment. In the morning, as soon as she woke up, the wife looked out the window and saw a neighbor who was hanging out washed clothes to dry.
“Look at her dirty laundry,” she told her husband. But he was reading the newspaper and did not pay any attention to it.

“She probably has bad soap, or she doesn’t know how to do laundry at all. We should teach her.”
And so, every time the neighbor hung out the laundry, the wife was surprised at how dirty it was.
One fine morning, looking out the window, she cried out: “Oh! Today the laundry is clean! She must have learned how to do laundry!”
“No,” said the husband, “I just got up early today and washed the window.”

“I couldn’t wait” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

It was an unprecedented wonderful moment. Disdaining unearthly forces and his own path, he froze to look at her for the future. At first she took a very long time to take off her dress and fiddle with the zipper; then she let her hair down and combed it, filling it with air and silky color; then she pulled at the stockings, trying not to get them caught with her nails; then she hesitated with the pink lingerie, so ethereal that even her delicate fingers seemed rough. Finally she undressed all - but the month was already looking out the other window.

"Wealth"

One day a rich man gave a poor man a basket full of trash. The poor man smiled at him and left with the basket. I emptied it, cleaned it, and then filled it with beautiful flowers. He returned to the rich man and returned the basket to him.

The rich man was surprised and asked: “Why are you giving me this basket filled with beautiful flowers if I gave you garbage?”
And the poor man replied: “Everyone gives to the other what he has in his heart.”

“Don’t let good things go to waste” – Stanislav Sevastyanov

“How much do you charge?” - “Six hundred rubles per hour.” - “And in two hours?” - “A thousand.” He came to her, she smelled sweetly of perfume and skill, he was worried, she touched his fingers, his fingers were disobedient, crooked and absurd, but he clenched his will into a fist. Returning home, he immediately sat down at the piano and began to consolidate the scale he had just learned. The instrument, an old Becker, was given to him by his previous tenants. My fingers ached, my ears felt stuffy, my willpower grew stronger. The neighbors were banging on the wall.

“Postcards from the Other World” – Franco Arminio

Here the end of winter and the end of spring are approximately the same. The first roses serve as a signal. I saw one rose when they were taking me in an ambulance. I closed my eyes, thinking about this rose. In front, the driver and nurse were talking about a new restaurant. There you can eat your fill, and the prices are meager.

At some point I decided that I could become important person. I felt that death was giving me a reprieve. Then I plunged headlong into life, like a child with his hand in a stocking with baptismal gifts. Then my day came. Wake up, my wife told me. Wake up, she kept repeating.

It was a fine sunny day. I didn't want to die on a day like this. I always thought that I would die at night, with dogs barking. But I died at noon when a cooking show started on TV.

They say people most often die at dawn. For years I woke up at four in the morning, stood up and waited for the fateful hour to pass. I opened a book or turned on the TV. Sometimes he went outside. I died at seven in the evening. Nothing special happened. The world has always caused me vague anxiety. And then this anxiety suddenly passed.

I was ninety-nine. My children came to the nursing home just to talk to me about my centenary celebrations. None of this bothered me at all. I didn't hear them, I only felt my fatigue. And he wanted to die so as not to feel her either. This happened in front of my eldest daughter. She gave me a piece of apple and talked about a cake with the number one hundred on it. The one should be as long as a stick, and the zeros should be like bicycle wheels, she said.

My wife is still complaining about the doctors who didn’t treat me. Although I always considered myself incurable. Even when Italy won the World Cup, even when I got married.

By the age of fifty, I had the face of a man who could die any minute. I died at ninety-six, after a long agony.

What I always enjoyed was the nativity scene. Every year he turned out more and more elegant. I displayed it in front of the door of our house. The door was constantly open. I divided the only room with red and white tape, like when repairing roads. I treated those who stopped to admire the nativity scene with beer. I talked in detail about papier-mâché, musk, sheep, wise men, rivers, castles, shepherds and shepherdesses, caves, the Baby, the guiding star, electrical wiring. Electrical wiring was my pride. I died alone on Christmas night, looking at the nativity scene sparkling with all the lights.

Deep night. Somewhere a quiet breeze runs through, dispersing the last dust on the damp asphalt. A little rain at night added freshness to this stuffy, tortured world. Added freshness to the hearts of lovers. They stood hugging each other in the light of a street lamp. She is so feminine and gentle, who said that at 16 years old a girl cannot be feminine enough?! Here age does not matter at all, only the one who is nearby, the closest, dearest and warmest person on earth is important. And he is most glad that she is finally in his arms. After all, it is true that they say that hugs, like nothing else, convey all the love of a person, no kisses, only the gentle touch of his hands. Each of them in this minute, the minute of hugs, experiences unearthly feelings. The girl feels safe knowing that she will always be protected. The guy shows care, feels responsible - an unforgettable feeling towards his beloved and only one.
Everything was like the finale of the most beautiful film about happy love. But let's start from the beginning.