One warm autumn day (I was still young) I was walking along Lenin Avenue. This is in the center of Chelyabinsk. Suddenly I hear a strange conversation behind me.
- Sergunka, - says, judging by his voice, a middle-aged man, - have you learned the lesson that I asked you yesterday?
- I learned it, grandpa, - a child's voice answers.
- Well, show me how you learned.
- Dedinka, what if she gets down?
- This one? - the male voice fell silent for a second. - Nope, this one does not come down!
I felt the gazes on my back and understood what they were saying about me.
“Oh, you pranksters! - I thought. - And what are you thinking behind my back? To make me scared of you?"
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I stopped and turned sharply. Two pairs of inquiring eyes - a cheerful blue old man and blue wide-open boys - looked at me without blinking. The boy looked about seven years old. Thin, small, dressed in an old casing, soundly hand-sewn from an adult. Belted, like the old man, with a rope. Both are in homespun pants. The boy's feet are not boots, not boots, but some kind of cheboochki, and the old man has old, but strong boots, it seems, he himself was tinkering. Sheepskin coats on their heads. Everything, though ancient, is clean, strong, neatly fitted, comfortable for travel.
I smiled, shook my head, wagged my finger in my mind, turned sharply and went my own way. And then a smile froze on my face: in front of me, five meters from me, ceremoniously holding hands, walked the same old man and boy. I stared at their back. They, sensing my surprised look, turned at once, looked at each other and laughed happily.
I laughed with them and looked around, wanting to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. There was no one behind me. I looked ahead again, but it was already empty. The old man and the boy disappeared …
Larisa Alexandrovna SHEBALDOVA, Chelyabinsk