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How much was connected with this yard. He brought so many emotions, events, trials, adventures to our entire company. He saw so many people… We stopped gathering here a long time ago. When money appeared, then the opportunity arose to spend evenings in more, so to speak, “brighter” places. But today, it seemed to me… no, it didn’t even seem that way, but I was sure that my friends would gather here.

The yard was now a depressing sight. All the benches were cut down — this was done by the crazy old lady from the fourth floor… Part of the yard, where there used to be a children’s swing and a carousel, was now occupied by the porch of a new fitness club… Of everything that was here before, only a few trees and a ladder for children remained.

**** came first. He was very rarely late for meetings, and if he was late, it was only for a very good reason. No matter what happened in his life, he always remained calm and did not show his emotions. And now, even if he was worried, at least it wasn’t expressed on his face. Almost immediately another good friend of mine came after him with his girlfriend, who immediately attacked the **** with questions… Then again… and again… one after another, everyone else came..

How strange it was to look at all this… We all spent so many evenings in such a discussion. We spent so much time together, but there was always something to talk about. And now — just another piece of news… Of course, very tragic and unpleasant news, and I saw that most of my “comrades-in-arms” really had a hard time bearing it (there were those who didn’t care… but I never considered them my friends). I was valued as a friend and I was pleased. But I understood perfectly well: yes, they will remember me now, they will remember me tomorrow, they will remember me on the ninth day, on the fortieth day, maybe in a year. Each of my friends, after receiving a higher education, will have a different life, other problems and worries, much more important than my death… Perhaps some of them will someday gather as families, and one day they will decide to look at old photographs from their youth. And then, on some of them they will see me and remember… But this will not bring any sadness. Just pleasant nostalgia about what a great time it was and how much fun we had together..

Nothing will change after your death. You will still be forgotten. Sooner or later everyone will be forgotten. Someday they will forget Jesus Christ… A matter of time.

So why all this?? Why https://vegaswildcasino.co.uk/ did I care what people thought of me?? Why did I always strive to be original and memorable?? Why did I give people joy and smiles so often?? Would anything have changed if I were not what I was, but a sullen, withdrawn recluse?? For me, the goal of life has always been to be remembered only with kind words after death… Well, I seem to have achieved this… So what? I lived my life, but still didn’t understand its meaning… Wasted time..

It started to rain.
Meanwhile, someone had already brought vodka, glasses, some simple snack. One glass of vodka was placed on the ground. Someone was the first to make a toast… Quite ordinary words… The same as they say to a person on his birthday, but only with a touch of bitterness and not about the future. We drank..

And then the memories began… One started, and then like a snowball. Each one interrupted the other, complemented the story, corrected it if something was told incorrectly… And all these stories were about me… I stood nearby and smiled weakly… Maybe life was not lived in vain after all?

— Do you remember, do you remember… That incident when his nose was broken. Yes, yes, he was terribly drunk back then, and these guys came from another yard… Well, yes. He had only just broken up with *** then… That’s when he did something weird..
— Yo… What did I remember?! Remember how he and ***** held a competition for the best dance moves… I was in awe then..
— Ha! And I remembered: when ***** and I were still talking, he climbed onto her balcony on the third floor. She was thinking alone, and her parents were there, watching TV… And then suddenly he comes in from the balcony… Hello..

Stories poured out like from a cornucopia. My smile grew wider. For the first time since my death, I felt more or less calm..

I also wanted to take part in the conversation, and I began to think about how to do this… Go into some empty apartment and take paper and pen… No. My whole company was standing in a circle, and I would not have been able to convey the message to them, I would definitely have been in the field of view. Well, well. Think, think. What else? Telephone? No. No one will hear me… SMS! Exactly! I turned around and looked at the house nearby. Any apartment. Who cares. I went to the first one I came across.

In the kitchen, some guy was putting a pot of water on the stove, probably going to cook dumplings. The most bachelor’s food, and the guy, apparently, was just a bachelor, a woman’s hand was clearly not felt in his apartment.
I found his phone almost immediately, the mobile phone was charging in the bedroom. I took it in my hand and froze… I didn’t know what to write… “Hello, guys! It’s me. Now I’m standing next to you and I also remember… How cool it was after all."Can you believe this?? Most likely, whatever I write will be perceived as some kind of cruel joke. And then there will be no more memories, and conversations will come down to something like: “what kind of bitch jokes like that?”!"… And that’s it, the idyll will be destroyed. I didn’t want this..
I’m back with my friends.

And then a painfully familiar grumbling was heard from the balcony on the fourth floor:
— Here… They gathered again… It wasn’t, it wasn’t… But no, they came.
I already miss this… At first **** wanted to resolve everything peacefully. He came closer to the house and explained the situation: they say, a friend died — we gathered, we remember..
— What difference does it make to me whether someone died or was born there?. There’s no point in wandering around other people’s yards! Let’s get out of here!
This remark caused a storm of indignation. Everyone considered it necessary to express everything they thought about this point of view. Noise, din, but I still heard the following phrase of the old woman:
— Yes, I’ll call the police now!
Well, no way. You won’t call the police! Not today. I quickly went up to the fourth floor and entered the apartment. A classic setting for a lonely Russian pensioner: Soviet furniture, faded carpets and some kind of dim lighting. The landlady was still broadcasting something from the balcony, so I could act.

The telephone was in the corridor. I ran to the kitchen, took a knife and cut the wire. I was about to go back, but stopped at the door… A nice idea popped into my head… Next to the phone was a notepad with numbers. I tore out the piece of paper, took a pen and wrote: “You will also answer me for the sawed-down benches.”!"and put it next to the phone. And now — the final touch. I took the keys to the apartment, locked the front door from the outside and threw the keys down the flight of stairs. In general, I respect my elders… but this is a special case. I grinned and left the entrance.

In the yard there was a pleasant atmosphere of brotherhood, which I had always enjoyed for so many years… Smiles and laughter… And sometimes sad pauses and sighs… And rain from the sky… And on the ground a glass of vodka… My glass… Thank you, friends… So we were good company, if even after my death both you and I feel so good together..