The lying year

I sat down next to the phone and tried to think. Nothing came to mind other than angry friends and offended relatives. They were constantly pouting at me, and when we met on the street, they'd turn away or step into some store.

They all considered me a bad person. They were irritated that I managed my financial affairs so badly, I could never hold on to money. What irritated them most of all was that I could never hold on to their money. All these thoughts made me hungry again.

I had to make some decision. If we were Americans, it occurred to me, they would bring cash if you called 911. In neat little stacks wrapped in gold foil. Like a fairy tale. And they'd sing 'Heppi byozdei tu yu' in quiet voices. Finally, I took yesterday's card out of my pocket and stared at it....


...I was reaching for the phone when it rang so abruptly itself that my heart nearly skipped a beat. 'Yes?' I nearly shouted after picking up. 'This is the receptionist for the general director of Red Star Industries. Is this the Vorobyov apartment?'

'Yes, that's me!' I shouted even louder. 'Not the apartment, I mean... but Mikhail Vorobyov. That's me!'

Translated from Russian by Marian Schwartz