"Everybody's gone. Everybody's gone. Everybody's gone," rhythmically and firmly in the head.
The girl smiled and slowly went to the shelves.
Here he is, the cherished box. Heavy.
The heavy one should be lifted gently. Carry it not far.
It is necessary to wipe the dust. I'm going to do it. Where does it come from?
That's because they haven't left for so long.
There's no dust in the drawer. When it opens it, everything that threatens the dust has already been destroyed.
- Ew. A gramophone," the dust exhaled with disappointment. - How many precautions for this rusty box? She doesn't care about disks like that. There's more of this music on the discs.
Dust, not lowering the nosy nose, mowed down the look at the carnage near the old iron.
- The record! What is she looking at there?
The girl raised the record to the sun and bitterly examined the scratch on the track.
The needle now needs to be lowered a little further. What happened before the scratch, she won't hear anymore.
But she remembers!
The record is in place. Foot in the waiting position. The factory is full.
- What is she waiting for? Doesn't see it - I'm waiting!
The girl led with skinny shoulders.
The dust didn't even know that the music was already playing. It sounded like it was a permanent scratch.
Yeah, there's got to be a sharp floating sound right here and an irretrievable repetition.
Yes, right here.
The needle definitely fell to the edge of repetition, and the music became a reality.
In spite of the scratching, the music continued!
The dust felt a draught.
- Who opened the window? - The dust shouted in panic.
The dust didn't want to go out. After all, the most interesting thing began.
In the room, some things disappeared and others appeared.
The flat gut of the TV showed unusual volumes of harpsichord. The speakers of the music center turned slowly into ancient candlesticks. And the brightness of the candles began to burn brightly.
The flame flashed nervously.
- Close the window at last! - the dust shouted.
There was someone to cover the window. Heavy curtains blazing in the wind were coming out of the ladies' dresses. From the changing shape of the bulky wardrobe, which was acquiring the shine of a noble tree, gallant gentlemen came out in cylinders.
No one listened to the dust. No one saw it.
- Who else is this? - asked about the dust.
A brave cavalryman approached the girl with spurs.
Or a valet. Who would take them apart? Who remembers them?
Yes, they will start the dance. They will be joined by everyone else in strict order.
In the meantime, these others are just waiting.
Does the girl see her boyfriend?
Of course!
Will they be able to touch each other? After all, they are so different!
Different styles of clothing. Different flesh.
A slightly transparent, manly palm of your hand is in contact with the warm tanned palm of the girl and changes the last thing that is in this room.
The girl stretches out, slimming up, growing up. Sneakers crumble with laces and elegant shoes appear on pale legs. The pale legs rise to a gentle, almost weightless ball gown. This dress bare sharp shoulders. A sharp fringe falls to the shoulders of naughty mop of fiery red hair.
That's all. The pair starts moving. Slowly and solemnly.
They are followed by pairs of high-ranking ladies and husbands decorated with mustaches and sideburns.
Everything superfluous in the room has disappeared, giving way to expensive parquet.
No. Another thing hasn't changed!
The dust that looks at this musical mystery.
Who will remember what's going on in the room while this magical music is playing?
Only this dust!
It's so hard not to change and remember when things change around you.
"The main thing is not to touch anything", - thought the dust and fooled the dancers, stayed away from the magnificent fan of an elderly lady.
And watched and remembered.
The needle slid on the old record. The waltzers moved obediently in the dance according to the sounds of music coming from the gramophone.
But everything is over.
The music came to an abrupt end. For a while everyone in the room looked over and, smiling, began to disappear, returning the place to sneakers, shoelaces, speakers.
The girl approached the gramophone, gently raised the needle and released the record.
The balcony door opened as if it had lost an obstacle. At the same time, the bell rang sharply and exactingly.
The girl sent the gramophone to the box in precise movements. The box is on the shelf.
- Running, running! - The girl was shouting on the move. - The lanyard was untied. Wait a little!
https://ficbook.net/readfic/8587817 (original text)