Again Belkin is at the door. Euphrosynia Antonovna, to the guard post!
My brain was buzzing, I grasped nothing. Dmohovsky made fun and joked as was his custom... He accompanied me to the truck, brought my empty suitcase and helped to get into the back of the truck.
Spring breeze blew in the face, the bright sun blinded, I felt giddy. The truck jumped over bumps. The past was getting further and further. What is in stock? I turned towards the Coal Gorge. To be honest, in recent days my thoughts went no further than the cubicle in the boiler room. What now? Now my way goes to the mine. I did not expect that!
But why not to try and see what that mine is with my own eyes?
«Budet burya, my posporim
I pomuzhestvuem s ney.»
(From The Swimmer» (Plovets) poem by Nikolai Yazykov)
Another page is turned. What will be on the next one?