Svetka
A hollow moon hung over Moscow, its yellow disk seemed not to shine at all, but only gleamed yellow against the background of a gloomy green sky.
Residents of the capital were in a hurry in every direction on this cold January evening. Some were dressed festively – in a hurry to celebrate the Old New Year, others – casually, knowing exactly that this evening they were waiting for a warm blanket, a cup of cappuccino and a warm purring cat, in an embrace with which they were going to fall asleep.
Petya Solntsev, a young, inexperienced trainee of a glossy magazine, was looking for his girlfriend with his eyes. They agreed to meet at about eight, at the entrance to Timiryazevsky Park.
There was no light yet, although it was already eight thirty-five on the clock.
Petya dialed her number. There were beeps, and immediately her answering machine spoke:
"Hello! If you call, but I do not answer, then I am rushing at full speed to the place of our meeting with you! Orevoir! Goodbye! See you!" – and there was a laughter in the receiver.
Svetka! Petya smiled and hung up. He stood in the cold for another half an hour, occasionally glancing at his watch, when he realized that Sveta would most likely not come. Apparently, some urgent matters arose, or simply forgot, but Petya realized that it was pointless to wait any longer. He opened the package with McDonald's food that he had prepared for Svetka and began chewing with enthusiasm.
“If Svetka went by taxi and got stuck in a traffic jam, then she can still come.
– Petka! Petka! Sorry for being late! Going! – Sveta waved, standing across the road, and clutching a dog leash in her hand. At her feet, wagging his tail, obediently sat Pupsik. Sveta waited until the traffic died down, and she and Pupsik crossed the road to meet Petya's arms.
– Hi! – Sveta kissed Petya on the lips and smiled.
– You look great. – made a compliment to Sveta Petka.
– Oh, thanks, but I was really going in a hurry. There are such traffic jams, you have no idea …
– I can imagine … January 14th. New year old style, everyone goes to club and celebrate.
– Yeah, that's it. No, to sit at home, roll up olive oil! Petya and Sveta laughed in unison.
– Would you like nuggets? I'm almost finishing my Big Mac …
– Infection! – feigned scolded Petya Sveta.
