Hands sticky as if in honey, the sun is burning in the ceiling. I look into the black sky above the city. Then I lie down on the floor, in a barrel, and fall asleep. Painfully stabs my lower back, my coccyx stretches down somewhere, but I have no strength for pain.
I wake up again with stiffness in my back, as if from one scapula to another leads a line of scotch. The upper part of the body is stretched out to a place where nothing has ever happened before. I get up off the floor, my workshop looks as usual, but my legs have become more tenacious, as if I could walk on the floor as if on the walls, on the ceiling.
My body is quite different. Wings are pulled back, stings are pulled down. My head is long, stretched out in a mustache, and I feel something with them that I have never felt before. I come to the window, and the weather does not seem to me to be an obstacle. The snow falls silently. It seems that in this weather insects have all the chances to sleep, and with this desire comes my resurrection.
***
Katya walks down the street, counts down the right house. He thinks involuntarily that the part-time job as a model is an ungrateful thing to do. Dreams of graduating from the institute, another course, and you can get a good job, get a white salary ...
Katya's tired of people who don't behave the way she expects them to. Sometimes such behavior is curious, but somewhere in her heart Kate's desire for simplicity is excruciating. Straight lines of organization of an ordinary person. A person who goes to work in the office, eats three times a day, takes care of his health, takes vitamins. Everyone is unique, Katya was convinced of it. But there is a uniqueness that protrudes, sharpens, scratches - and this is Katya's scarecrow.
The artist she is going to now is from the same people scratching. He seems to be behaving calmly, but how he frightened her with his drawing. For four hours she sat there, afraid to breathe to see her hands on canvas. All that she was ashamed of: excessive bonyness and ugly finger shape, lack of manicure - all this was shown with amazing accuracy, unsightly honesty, with an emphasis on her shortcomings. Today, Katya cut off the burrs, cuticle, nails varnished and left the bracelets at home so as not to draw attention.
Well, here he is, the right house. Katya goes up the ornate stairs, knocks on the door. Nobody opens the door. Probably, she is sleeping again. Uncertainty Katya presses the handle and finds herself inside the room. Paintings are folded along the walls like cake cakes. Many of them look frightening. Especially the one that in the work - a gray-black spot with a ghostly stick, remotely resembling the shadow of some creature. Nearby - the weak outlines of a huge oak tree. Animals graze on oak, and someone lives in its roots too. It seems that it rustles. Gross.
Katya goes deep into the room, but there is no one inside. Has he forgotten, left, fallen asleep somewhere in his home? Then why is the door open? Katya bypasses the workshop, makes three unnecessary laps on it. The window is not locked, it is only covered. On the stool there is a pyramid of neatly folded clothes, on the floor - a pair of slippers and two black lumps of socks. On the hanger there is a coat, street shoes... What did he leave in?
Katya pulls out the phone, dials the number "Hood. Mikh. Shmelev", the bell rings in the pocket of his coat, hanging next to the chewed hanger.
Pointed people scratching, stinging. Not Katina people. Katina people sleep at night and have beautiful, warm dreams. Didn't you throw yourself out the window? Katya fits, looks outside, but only frozen black asphalt under the window. He sighs lightly. At first she wants to sit and try to wait, but the workshop space pushes her out of her mind. Before leaving, she thoughtfully draws in air with her nostrils. It seems that it smells like honey.