28

“There is a fire there,” with this recollection and something else very cynical, rude, vulgar and very funny, following from the inscription that the men showed in the yard, I opened my eyes, resting immediately on Wolverine’s eyes. It was morning outside the window, it was light in the room and the sun's rays lay in juicy bright spots on the carpet, on the wall, on the table.

The witch was still in the same terry white robe, but without makeup, without hair, slept. She looked at me curiously, touching my cheeks and hair. She smiled and remained silent, shaking her head, whispering something.

I was surprised how well I felt, powerful streams of energy seemed to go through the veins, through the muscles, they were tightly inflated with force, I almost flew up to the ceiling.

In the kitchen, sitting again in the company of a dog and a cat, I watched Wolverine nimble between the stove and the refrigerator, making food, and listened to her cosmogonic performances.

- Look. Imagine that eve
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