Small People of a Big City

1. Zorana casually waved her dark hand with tattooed flamboyant letters on her thin wrist, catching her long blonde pressed hair at the same and dropping her hand straight on the smooth surface of the table covered with shadows of the nearby tree, so you could hear how her big ring with Swarovski crystal tapped on a hard surface of the garden table.

She was calm and composed as always, in contrast to stirrings of green leaves under light summer breeze, and there was no-one who could upset the phlegmatic daughter of old Mr. Mujen. Her personality was definitely the strongest among all the personalities that Milica knew, so stable and always real , with both feet firmly on the ground. Zorana's decisions were always one hundred percent correct and it'd always seemed to Milica that all that desicions were perfect decisions. Sometimes, Milica thought that Zorana was the smartest person she knew, although it would often deceived her when Zorana's knowledge of grammar wasn't quite good,but it seemed like nobody else but Milica noticed that mistakes Zorana made and that the definitions Zorana made weren't the best. But, Zorana was far from stupid girl. She knew to cover up even her ignorance and hide it under a thick layer of charm and sophistication. Her subtlety and wisdom prevailed yet the lack of awareness or the idea of a rule, and that was no miracle, though she came out of the womb of Mrs. Mujen.

There was the rumour about this rich lady that, once, she 'd been a girl for fun, smiling blond girl with long lean legs that barely received a degree in elementary school, and already enjoyed male company and outings that hadn't been allowed to her peers. Although much older, Mr. Mujen 'd already noticed on the evening dances beautiful, mischievous girl, always modern dressed , free and careless, while dancing and having fun. Already known as an entrepreneur, it wasn’t hard for him to get the attention of any girl with his latest car models, and besides, everyone had already widely known what wealth he managed, so his looks and appearance on the dances were just one proof of his power. Then the blue-eyed girl in the center of attention, and now the old lady Mujen, she could easily satisfy her boundless ambition by accepting a marriage proposal of Simion Mujen.

Of course, one does not have to be a genius to understand that both products of their love, Zorana, and her older sister, Natasha, always had the perfect life filled with love, attention, and achieving all their whims. However, both were stuck to the family and Mrs. Tanja Mujen strongly ingrained in their personality that family nest is central and most important place in their life and that no one is more important than that. Family and its interests on the first, and everyone else was in the last place. As a faithful and devoted practitioners of Tanja's school, both, Zorana and Natasha, have thoroughly absorbed the ability to be nice to people, to be communicative enough that they would not be considered quiet, but at the same time, to talk with people about unimportant things and the problems of other people, while all their feelings, joys, sorrows and problems coveted for himself and opened them like a secret to each other or in the spacious living room in their house, furnished in the latest fashion from magazines about apartment arrangement , with their parents.

1. The heavy feathered quilt was quietly rustling beneath warm sleeping body. Purple slippers were lying on the dirty parquetry. Silence reigned in the apartment. Washed crumpled clothes were standing on an armchair and fashionable women's boots, sneakers and shoes were scattered

   around the mess in the hall. The water in the sink was white, and the sink full of dirty glasses with alcohol remains, so the sour smell filled the air. Deep draft pointedly opened the balcony door. The cold descended the room. The curtains started to flutter. Water boiled in a kettle, and the lamp on the stove ceased to shine. White coffee was gliding smoothly in the ivory cup. Light of the grim, impersonal morning cut through the huge windows of skyscraper in whose sixteenth upper floor was the apartment. In the bathroom, towel fell to the chocolate brown tiles and stain of toothpaste was clearly outlined in the sink. The smell of the creams, makeup and expensive perfumes originated from open cabinets near the mirror, which reminded of the smell of perfume shops in the noble city center. Yellow vintage earrings beseemed well to little dark earlobes, which could be seen in the reflection in the mirror that morning.

Postman rang twice. Ponderous door opened with a dull sound of friction, and the postman said nervously:

- You should stick the number of the apartment to the door of the apartment. How the hell should I know this is number 16?

There was a small pink bag in the postal dark blue bag. It smelled of freshly plastered vinyl. The key started to rattle turning around locks.

Badges played at fingertips in a hurry. Running down the stairs echoed through the building. Taxi drivers, who were reading the morning papers, lazily turned their heads when the girls in coats passed by them.

It was crowded at the bus stop. The red-haired high woman held in her arms a blonde baby with the green eyes and gently pink jacket and purple boots. The baby smiled gleefully watching the mother's face smiling. She cooed and waved her hands clasped in fists. Two little teeth were sticking out of her mouth, and her cheeks were rosy from the cold winter air. Her grandmother was talking to her and kept in her hands a rag doll. The trolley stopped. Redhead mother came out carrying a smiling baby. White-haired grandmother was coming out slowly, walking with the help of wooden stick, and the door of the trolley closed behind.

-Mom! Mom! - shouted a woman with a baby.

-Open the door to a woman! - yelled large elderly gentleman in a black coat.

The girl sitting behind the driver read a book. Free newspapers lied on an empty seat. Windows on the trolley were sprayed with weak rain.

In front of the faculty, there wasn’t the tobacco store anymore. The whole pavement was sadly empty. In front of the university buildings colorfully dressed crowd of young people stood in circles filled with ash and smoke of cigarettes. Draft ruled in the hall. Group of pigeons flied low and agitated landed in a corner of the hall. A long queue stretched in front of the elevator. No one came at the appointed place. A few more looks at the clock and it was clear that nobody would even come. Solid black boots returned by the same route to the stuffy kitchen. The light on the stove again shone. The water into shower cabin was hot, but refreshing. The bell was heard at the door. Wet hair squeezed, making a puddle on the parquet behind it. The young man in the olive-green baggy jacket entered the apartment, put down his suitcase beside scattered shoes and walked into the living room full of light. He dropped his keys, cell phone and a lighter on the low wooden coffee table, and lit a cigarette. He leaned back casually in an armchair and let out a heavy smoke at the ceiling. White cups of hot coffee steamed on the table, while playful images alternated on the TV screen. Professor was late to class 15 minutes of whole. Students had the grievous facial expressions, and silence filled the classroom. The needle moved slowly from number to number.

1. The evening was full of fog. Because of sprinting, long hair was tangled and floral scarf moved. Crumbs and spices from rolls with Greek salad remained on the fingers. Only a couple of people were in the trolley. Blonde girl sat on the next seat with headphones in her ears. Gaudy shop windows along the street were visible through the window. The door opened on the bus stop on the Square. A man entered the trolley. He was smiling. He has not changed a lot. Just a couple of pounds less made him look different than 10 months earlier.

   -How are you?

   -Good. You?

   -Great. How's school?

   -OK. And your job?

   -Good. I work in a hospital now.

   -That's great. I thought you'd moved.

   -No, I still leave here. You still work in the dancing school?

   -Yes, but I'm thinking of leaving it.

   -Why?

   -I don't know. Boredom. Five years are long time.

   -Oh.

   -Yes.

   -And Marco how is he?

   -I don't know. I don't hang out with him anymore.

   -Really? I saw him with Sarah.

   -Yes...And you still live with Tea?

   -No. She left city about three months ago. I haven't heard of her.

   -Oh.

Awkward silence reigned. Only the old trolley motor could be heard. On their faces still were just slight, strained smiles.

Trolley moved slowly. Cars trumpeted in the cluttered streets.

The street was filled with fog. It makes the foot to hover over sidewalks, parking lots, concrete steps. The apartment was warm and filled with sweetish tobacco smoke. On a soft sofa, black-haired young man and blonde girl giggled beside computer screen. Skinny pale girl with a tattoo across the narrow back stood at the window, smoking. She casually turned around, revealing behind her a dark, dark blue sky speckled with the lights of the city. She spoke:

-We have to hurry up. Their bus started about an hour ago.

Scores of people with suitcases came out of the bus. The high girl with the glasses copper-colored dropped her suitcase, but she raised it with fast movement of her thin arms. She continued to walk with the boys with shaved heads in tracksuits. They seemed to be younger than her. The group headed towards the exit of the station.

The apartment was dark. With one click of the switch room became bathed in light. The room was dominated by cheerful murmur.

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